Ashes, Ashes
by Mrs. Hiddleston
Summary: For sixteen years I had grown up without a doubt in my mind of who I was. Hermione Granger, Muggleborn extraordinaire. So it was hardly expected, waking up surrounded by faces that I identified as my enemies, only to be told that I was someone else.
1. Circumstances

**A/N: Alright, so here's a semi-different take on the usually time-travel HermionexTom business. Please, no harsh critique, but I'd like to know what ya'll think :) All characters and themes that you recognize belong to the wonderful and ever-talented J.K Rowling.**

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><p>Chapter One:<p>

Circumstances

Evening had come faster than she had predicted and Hermione Granger found herself hurrying home, glancing at her watch anxiously, cursing the ministry official who made it illegal to apparate within ten miles of a Muggle inhabited area.

She hopped the last three steps up the porch and threw the door open, bounding inside. Her father was seated at the dinner table, a newspaper in front of his face. Her mother was ladling a steaming spoonful of mash potatoes onto his plate, and she looked up reprovingly when her daughter entered. Her father glanced at her over the newspaper, arching an eyebrow.

"You're very nearly late."

Hermione bowed her head. "Forgive me, father. I lost track of time."

"Obviously. Your punishment is seven years of shoveling manure and I'll be burning all of your books." He caught her eye, and after a moment, they both broke down in a fit of laughter. Sofia Granger frowned at both of them disapprovingly.

"It would do her good if you gave her a real punishment once in a while, John." Her husband grinned sheepishly at her, throwing his daughter a wink when his wife turned away.

"So what did you do today, Mione-Mouse?" Hermione smiled at the affectionate nickname as she began to cut her steak.

"I went to go visit Charlotte. She seems to be getting a lot better. She can actually walk now." One of her oldest Muggle friends had recently been involved in a near-fatal car accident, and had been in bed for almost seven months.

"That's nice," Mrs. Granger said, sitting down beside her husband. "Charlotte is such a sweet girl."

Hermione nodded absently. She adored Charlotte, truly, she did, but the blonde girl was not nearly as enjoyable company as Ronald or Harry. It wasn't just that they were male, and she preferred their company to the giggling, boy-obsessed, particularly shallow species that she shared an anatomy with, but the bond which the three of them shared through having attended Hogwarts together. Facing the elements that they had over the years gave the three of them a friendship that could never be fabricated between her and anyone else.

"Oh, and I got a letter from Ronald today. He said he wants Harry and me to stay for the last two weeks of summer, and then we can all go to Diagon Alley together."

Mr. Granger shook his head as he raised his glass to his lips, and Hermione could tell, as she noted the mischievous glint in his eyes, that she would not like what was coming next. "Ronald, Ronald, Ronald," he said in a tsking manner. "Will we ever here another name?" He turned his head towards the ceiling, as if addressing his question towards the heavens.

Hermione playfully swatted at him, a blush staining her cheeks. "Oh, stop it, daddy. Ronald's my friend. I've told you this a hundred times."

"Denial," he teased in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, leave her alone, John," Sofia intervened. "God knows she'll suffer enough embarrassment from you at their wedding."

Hermione rolled her eyes, still smiling as she took her plate to the kitchen and rinsed it. "I'm going for a walk!" She called to her parents. "I'll be back before eight."

"Take a coat, its chilly, darling!" She heard her mother chime.

Resisting the urge to smirk, Hermione called back, "Mum, its ninety-seven!"

The air was indeed stiff with heat as Hermione left her house, closing the door behind her. She started down the street, not heading to any particular location. She knew the neighborhood so well that her feet would carry her to a familiar place even if she paid them no mind.

It had been nearly two months since she had been at Hogwarts, and honestly, it had been long enough. Hermione loved her parents, loved them dearly, but since she had become one with the magical world, parting with it for an extended amount of time was more than she could bear. She didn't know if it was the scent of the library on her first day back, or the way the walls seemed to whisper to her, or the sight of a boiling potion, just waiting to be brewed, but something about Hogwarts screamed home.

Hermione was drawn from her thoughts when she heard a faint snap to her left. She froze, her mind going into overdrive as she subtly drew her wand, just enough so, if it was a Muggle, they wouldn't be able to see it, but, if it was a wizard, she'd be able to get to it. She peered around her, eyes squinting into the darkness.

After hesitating for a few more moment, she continued forward, her mind whirring. If she turned towards home, her follower might attack, but if she kept going, they might think their position was unacknowledged.

"Homenum Revelio," she breathed. She felt a swooping sensation, and looked to her left, squinting into the bushes. "Alright, already used one piece of magic," she said to herself. "Might as well go all the way. Stupefy!"

She was surprised, however, when her spell was deflected, and not one, but two figures immerged from the bushes. "I told you she was intelligent." The shorter figure said in a familiar voice. Hermione realized it was a woman.

"I din' bloody well know! I don' know the bint!" The tall figure said gruffly, and she could see his gleaming eyes on her, even in the dim light.

"So, sorry about this, love, but it really is necessary." Hermione raised her wand instinctively, conjuring a shield. However, the light of the spell had been enough to reveal her opponents faces, if even for a moment. The man she did not recognize, but the female—

"Bellatrix Lestrange-"

She stopped, however, for a split second later the older, much more experienced witch had knocked her out like a light, and Hermione Granger could say no more.

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><p><strong>AN: So what did ya think? Do tell, I'm curious:) By the way, I did make up the names Jonathan and Sofia for Hermione's parents, because I don't think they were ever mentioned, and the Muggle Charlotte is an OC of no great importance.**

**Review! :D**


	2. Telling

**A/N: So here's chapter two! I think I'm just going to do two updates tonight, unless I write more:) By the way, I'm not sure, but Voldie might be _slightly _OOC in this chapter, but I'm not sure because of the circumstances. Anyway, chapter two! :D All rights belong to lovely Joanne Rowling :P**

**Hope you like!**

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><p>Chapter Two:<p>

Telling

Hermione awoke in a dimly lit room, and for a moment, she could not recall how she came to be there. But then she remembered the walk, the surprise that came with seeing Bellatrix Lestrange, of all people, in her neighborhood, and the initial kidnapping that took place afterward.

She sat up slowly, suspicious when she realized that not only was she not bound, but she had been placed on an extremely comfortable bed. It was a tall, four-poster bed, not unlike the ones in the Gryffindor dormitories, except the draping was, predictably, silver and green.

She got out of the bed slowly, expecting snakes to attack her feet when they touched the floor. When nothing of the sort happened, she slowly made her way to the door, peeking out into the hallway. Her bare feet made hardly a sound as they padded against the stone floor. She came to a large, spiraling staircase, and started down it, her mind entirely focused on finding an exit, until she realized her dilemma.

She did not have a wand.

Grinding her teeth together in frustration, she followed a long hallway down to a single door. Two men were standing guard. She recognized one of them as the man who had assisted Bellatrix Lestrange in her capture, and the other she recognized from the wanted posters; Fenrir Greyback

As she approached them, neither of them made a move to hurt her, but the first man inclined his head towards the door, as if to say, 'Go on in.' Hermione hesitated wondering what peril awaited her on the other side, but sensing her internal conflict, the werewolf, Greyback, lunged forward giving her a shove towards the door. She opened in, stepping inside, and it took a moment for her eyes to register. The only lighting was from a lit fire at the other end of the room. There were about thirty figures, all seated around a long table. At the far end of the table was an unnaturally pale man, his eyes so red that the irises seemed to be made up of blood. Hermione recognized this man.

"Oh."

Several chuckles could be heard around the table, and even Lord Voldemort's lip curled in amusement. "Miss Granger," he called, his high, clear voice eerily shaping the form of her name. "Won't you join us, dear girl?"

Hermione considered, for a moment, to decline, to be as defiant as she possibly could, to put a good name to the house of Gryffindor, but her logic immediately disbanded the idea. The only thing that would come from defiance would be her death, and she would be no use to Harry and Ron if she was dead. So slowly, ever so slowly, she trudged over to the seat he had indicated, on his direct left.

Lord Voldemort noticed several things about her as she came closer. The first thing that came to his attention was that she favored her right leg. She walked with a limp, so unnoticeable that he doubted anyone else would've ever noticed it her entire life, but it was there, hardly detectable.

The second was that, despite being in a room full of Death Eaters, her head was held so high that one might think she was studying the ceiling. There was no shame or awkwardness that some bookish, teenage girls carried, but pure pride, arrogance almost that of which that Draco Malfoy had.

When she finally sat down beside him, he folded his hands pleasantly in front of him, forcing his lips upward in an attempt of a smile. "So, Miss Granger. How are you today?"

Her eyes moved upward to meet his. She blinked once, twice, arched an eyebrow, and then said in a dry voice, "Don't dawdle, what do you want?"

"Do not speak to My Lord in such a manner!" Hermione turned to see Bellatrix leaning forward in her chair; her face arranged in such an expression of defensive hatred that Hermione winced. "Just because we cannot hurt you doesn't mean-"

"Threats will not be necessary, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said coolly. Hermione admired the way that, although his voice had held no anger, it was easy to sense the demand in his tone.

"What did she mean? Why can't they hurt me?" He tilted his head, studying her as he considered her question. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with amusement.

"Why, they've been ordered not to, Hermione. We wouldn't want our little serpent getting harmed, now would we?" Something about the nickname stirred Hermione, though she was certain she had never been called it before. She looked at him, a crease between her brows. "Bellatrix, perhaps you should explain."

When Hermione looked back at the aristocratically beautiful witch, all traces of anger were gone from her face, and had been replaced with elation. "You are—not _quite _a Mudblood, pet."

Hermione felt reckless fury suffocate her, and she exploded to her feet, her anger crackling around her with a static energy. "I AM A MUGGLEBORN! MY PARENTS ARE MUGGLES, AND I'M A MUGGLEBORN, AND I'M DAMN PROUD OF IT!"

"I told you she was defensive about it," a familiar voice muttered, and Hermione looked down the table, not daring to believe who she saw sitting just three seats down from her.

"D—Draco?" she stuttered. "You—you can't be a Death Eater. Y—you're so young!"

His face seemed to tense, and he stared at her with those cold, piercing eyes. "Well, I am."

"No," she said, pouting. "You aren't. I understand it now. You're not _really _a bad person. You're just a poor little boy who's misunderstood and has been forced into something you don't want. Oh, Draco, I understand now! It's okay!"

The entire table seemed to be shaking with the Death Eater's laughter and Hermione sat down, glaring at the table. Voldemort was studying her with an amused air, and she shot him a glare, as if this whole thing was his fault.

"That's why you're in Gryffindor, Granger," Malfoy said finally, his cheeks still tinged pink from laughter. "You think every bad boy is a golden hearted angel underneath who just needs to have their soul melted."

"Your face needs to be melted, that's what," Hermione grumbled, and he chuckled.

"Perhaps you should let Bellatrix continue with her explanation before you blow up again, Miss Granger, yes?" Voldemort suggested in a light tone. She glanced over at the dark witch, raising her eyebrows.

"As I was saying, Miss Granger, you are not quite Muggleborn. You see, those Muggles that you live with—they aren't your parents."

"Yes they are," Hermione said quickly. "They're on my birth certificate! I even _look _like my father! They raised me."

"And if I were to say that they are your adoptive parents? That they were chosen specifically because Jonathan Granger looks like you? That a birth certificate was forged with their names on it? That they were obliviated to think that they had a daughter named Hermione Granger?"

Hermione's throat seemed to have clenched up. So many questions were going through her mind that she didn't know where to start. How did Bellatrix know her parents names? Why would she make up something as ridiculous as a forged birth certificate? What was her motive—to confuse Hermione, to make her angry at her Muggle parents?

"My mother loves Shakespeare," she said finally. Several of the Purebloods at the table looked confused. "That's why she named me Hermione. It's from _A Winter's Tale_."

Hermione hadn't expected any of them to know who Shakespeare was. "Did you know that Shakespeare was a wizard?"

"No he wasn't!" Hermione said in outrage, her head swinging towards the Dark Lord, who had uttered the comment. Why couldn't these people just accept that some Muggles were highly successful?

"Yes, he was," the Dark Lord objected. "Many famous

'Muggles' are actually wizards in disguise. Shakespeare, Dante, Plato, Gibbon, Tutankhamen…." He leaned closer to her, a wry smirk curling his lips. "Jimi Hendrix." Hermione giggled. "My point is, it is just as possible that had you been born to, say…._Pureblood _parents, they could've just as easily gotten the name from a Shakespearian text."

Hermione couldn't understand what had made them all lose their minds. "You…..how can you possibly prove that I….I am a _Pureblood_?"

"We haven't even got to the shocking part, and she's already freaking out." Hermione glared over at another face that she only recognized from the wanted posters; Rodolphus Lestrange.

"What—what's the shocking part?" Hermione asked nervously.

Bellatrix and her husband shared an uneasy glance. "Perhaps we should just show you your parents first."

Bellatrix stood and gracefully glided over to a chest of drawers which stood in the very corner of the room. She dug through it for a moment, her arm sinking into the drawer past the elbow.

"How did she do that?" one of the dafter Death Eaters questioned in wonder.

"Undetectable extension charm," Hermione and Voldemort said together, and though she didn't look at him, she could see him studying her from the corner of her eyes.

"Here they are!" Bellatrix returned with a thick, yellow folder that seemed to be containing hundreds of pieces of parchment. "It's—if I could just—here!" She withdrew a particularly thick piece of parchment that had long since yellowed and was curling up around the edges. Bellatrix handed the parchment to Hermione, and she looked over it nervously.

_Hermione Antoinette Duerre_

Hermione frowned, glancing up at Voldemort. Bellatrix was standing over her shoulder, waiting eagerly. "Hermione Antoinette Duerre? Duerre?" she repeated.

"Your father was French," Lord Voldemort explained. "Your mother met him on one of her travels to Paris, and they moved to England shortly after you were born so that you could attend Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded slowly. The explanation didn't complete add up, but she could address that later. She looked back down at the parchment, her eyes scanning over it.

_Born September 19th, 19-_

"No," Hermione said. Her breathing had quickened, and her heart was pounding at a frightening pace. "No, that's _impossible_."

_1926_

Hermione dropped the parchment, and it floated down from her hand like a feather, landing on the table softly. Her face became hostile as she glared up at Voldemort.

"Explain," she hissed.

"You were born September 19th, 1926, and you attended Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945. Two years after you graduated, Dumbledore came from the future, from the year 1981, kidnapped you, and brought you back to the future. He then preceded to use a de-aging potion on you, picked to unsuspecting Muggles, and gave you to them, to raise as their own daughter."

Hermione's breathing had not slowed, and she stared at him with an uncomprehending expression. "This is ludicrous! This is insane! You honestly expect me to believe this? Why would Dumbledore do such a thing?"

For the first time since she had arrived, Voldemort neglected to answer her question. He turned away from her, addressing Bellatrix. "Let her see the rest."

Bellatrix lifted the parchment from where it had fallen and set it back in her hands, leaning over her shoulder to read.

_Daughter of a Mr. Gaston Alfonso Duerre and a Mrs. Astrid Noemi Duerre_

_Hair: Brown_

_Eyes: Brown_

_Status: Magically inclined_

_Medical Position: Healthy_

Hermione couldn't breath. She felt like the walls of the room were suffocating her. But no, it all made sense. It wasn't like it was illogical. Why _shouldn't _she believe it?

As if Bellatrix could sense her doubt, she withdrew two more items from the folder. Hermione realized that they were pictures. They, too, were yellowing, but she could still clearly see the people depicted in them.

The first was of a marvelously beautiful woman. Her hair was the same color as Harry's, but the similarities ended there. Hermione suspected that she was probably Italian. She had high cheekbones, a straight nose, and straight teeth. Hermione did not see how this woman could possibly be her mother, until she looked at her eyes.

They were the same, melted chocolate shade of brown that Hermione's were.

_Just a charm_, she told herself, not really believing it. _This woman is __**not **__your mother_.

The second picture was of a man much less elegantly beautiful than his wife. His brown hair was slightly messy, and his face was lined much farther beyond his age. His face and eyes suggested little patience but many years of knowledge, and Hermione knew immediately that, if this man was her father, her intelligence had come from him.

"You….you think these are my parents?" she asked finally.

"They _are _your parents," Bellatrix insisted. "If you look at the resemblance, you could tell."

"But she's….beautiful," Hermione said breathlessly. She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, and a blush stained her cheeks as she avoided Bellatrix's eyes. "I mean—I don't understand how you _know _it's me."

"Well, it isn't like we're just going off a whim, here." Hermione jumped at the drawl and whirled around. Severus Snape was standing beside her chair, arching his eyebrows haughtily as he looked down his nose at her.

"Ugh, must you always be around to make my life miserable?" Hermione groaned, turning away from him. He sneered; placing himself on the Dark Lord's left. "And what do you mean; you aren't going off a whim?

"We've been looking for you for ages," Rodolphus Lestrange said. "Since you've been alive and before, even. It isn't like we just picked you out of the choice of Muggleborns. You meet the criteria."

"Which is?" Hermione questioned impatiently. Rodolphus huffed, but it was Snape who answered.

"Miss Duerre was intelligent, quick-witted, clever, and had a logical process beyond normal standards.

"You knew her?"

Snape's lip curled, an expression that Hermione recognized as displeasure.

"No, Miss Granger, I did not know her, seeing as I wasn't alive before 1947, but you'll find that, among us, at least, Miss Duerre is quite famous."

"Like Harry Potter-famous?" she asked innocently, because she knew it would make his blood boil. He glared at her, seething.

"Yes, like _Harry Potter_ famous. However, like you, _and_ Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, she was also impatient, impudent, reckless, fool-hearty, _dreadfully _stubborn, and an insufferable know-it-all, so, naturally, we knew you were the only candidate." Draco snickered and Hermione, in an instant, had flicked her wrist, sending a fork flying down the table. It punctured his arm and he let out a yell of pain, careening from his chair.

"So, you're _sure _it's me?"

Voldemort sighed in annoyance. "Bellatrix—" But the witch had already risen and moved again toward Hermione, drawing another small, square picture out of the folder. Hermione let out a gasp of shock, dropping the picture as though it had burned her.

The girl in the picture was the _older _than Hermione, and that was her first clue that something was off. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen. But the girl in the picture was _beautiful_. Her face was lightly freckled, but not to the point where it was unattractive. The girl in the picture had high cheekbones and a nose that was the perfect medium between long and round. The girl in the pictures eyes' sparkled with laughter, and her hair fell just past her shoulders in straight, slightly frizzy locks.

That girl was _not _Hermione Granger.

But at the same time, Hermione saw that it _was _her. Perhaps past the quirks and frenzies of sixteen, but it was her all the same. The girl in the picture had the same straight, serious brows, and Hermione could tell from the punctures in her lips that they were constantly gnawed on with worry. She could tell that this girls hair _might _have been bushy, if she had not cared to retain it as Hermione didn't.

Still, this girl lacked the evident terror that was always present in Hermione's eyes, the fear that her best friend would just keel over dead at any moment. Fear that the Death Eater's would attack her own parents, or one of her Muggle friends. Fear that was not entirely unreasonable from where she came from.

Back then, however…

"She's….I'm really her, aren't I?" Nobody bothered to answer her question. She looked up, her eyes on Voldemort, and it was to him that she asked her next question. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Dumbledore has done something that should not have been done to you. You needed to know." Hermione had a feeling that he was not telling her the entire truth.

"He obliviated me. I want to remember."

"Actually breaking through the obliviation would take years, and with a wizard like Dumbledore, it might not even be possible. There is, however, another way…"

Hermione waited for him to continued. He hesitated, peering at her sideways. "There is no chance at all that you are doubting this? You have fully accepted your position as Hermione Antoinette Duerre, daughter of Gaston and Astrid Duerre?"

Hermione's mind was reeling. What was the honest answer to that question? Did she really believe that she was this other person? Was it even logical?

_Think about it_, her mind told her. _You've always said that your parents never understood your connection with magic. You've always known that it was embedded deeply into your soul. You've always had misplace pride. Now you know it's because you were born with something to be proud of._

**Being Muggleborn is something to be proud of! **

_Yes, but everywhere you go, people have always questioned your pride in your Muggle heritage. It is not common, and now you know where it comes from. _

**You grew up as Hermione Granger. Are you really willing to take on a whole new identity just because they made up some fancy-schmancy French name for you and Photo shopped one of your pictures? **

"I—yes…..yes, I have." Voldemort looked at her, and she met his gaze evenly. She realized he probably was using Legilimency on her, but also realized that this was probably the only way to see what they were planning.

"Very well," he said finally. "There is….a spell. We've retrieved the memories—"

"How?" Hermione asked, bewildered. "How did you—"

"And there's a spell," he continued, giving her a disapproving look. "That will allow you to relay every single memory that Hermione Duerre—you—ever had. You'll view the memories as a sort of dream—you'll be asleep when you're watching them."

"So I'll be asleep for nineteen years?" Hermione yelped. "Erm…isn't that unhealthy?"

"You mistake me, child. Though you're reliving each and every second of your life in your head, it will pass as only a few hours to us. You'll have relived probably your first thirteen years, before we wake you up, and then you will view the rest tomorrow."

She frowned, trying to discern any flaw in this plan. "I—I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Very well." He addressed his Death Eaters. "Leave us. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, and Severus, stay." The said people stayed in their seats. Voldemort rose, rather gracefully, Hermione thought, for someone so hideous in appearance, and conjured a couch.

"There you sit," he said, gesturing towards the sofa. She tentatively sat down on it, her fear showing on her face. "It won't hurt," he explained. Hermione frowned, wondering why he was consoling her. With a sharp nod, she closed her eyes, and felt his wand swish over her. There was no bright flash behind her eyelids, but rather, a sudden breeze, as though someone had opened a window. There was a moment of silence, and then Hermione Granger collapsed against the arm of the sofa, and in her mind, three single words repeated themselves over and over, banging against the sides of her skull.

"_It's a girl_."

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><p><strong>AN: So what did you guys think? Good? Bad? That happy medium? Whatever it is, please, let me know :) For anyone who didn't understand that very last line, Hermione's having her first memory as Hermione Duerre. _"It's a girl_." She's basically remembering her birth, and she only remembers those words, because I don't think anyone can really remember their actual birth. **

**Please review! Tell me if you see any grammarical mistakes and such as well too! Thanks!**

**xoxo**


	3. Hermione Duerre of Hamilton Place

**A/N: Heyy! Here's the third chapter of this kooky lil story! :D Much thanks to _Wiked lovely miko and Preciousgurl _for their reviews! **

**Okay, so anyone whose not interested at all, just skip this part and go right to the story, you won't hurt my feelings:) **

**I've have this really clear vision in my mind of what each of the characters look like. Obviously, I'd be keeping the same characters that were in the movies, because they were amazing:) But the ones that no one ever really messed around with. Just trying to give you all an idea of what they look like to me, and what I'm going to portray them as:**

**First, Matt Cedeno as Rodolphus Lestrange. I dunno know why but I always pictured Rodolphus as this sexy, kinda carefree looking guy haha:)**

**These are my characters at an older age, obviously not, pre-Hogwarts stage: Emma Watson, obvioulsy, as Hermione, cuz I love her SOO much:) Now don't hate me: My Tom Riddle is Tom Welling. Ever since I saw him in Cheaper by the dozen, I've been in love with him. I know, I know, he's like 32, but if you shave his beard, I still think he'd be an ARTFULLY beautiful Tom :). Druella Rosier, I pictured Dakota Fanning. For some reason I just can't picture her as being an evil Pureblood supremist. There's something about the name Druella that seems innocent, and Dakota embodies innocence. I pictured Walburga Black as Leighton Meester, she kinda has the haughty look, but awesomely gorgeous:) Thomas Dekker is my Avery, and Kellan Lutz is my Lestrange. Kat Dennings as Lucretia Black: I LOVE HER LIPS hahaXD, Hunter Parrish as Orion Black: for some reason I always pictured him blonde. Jared Padalecki as Alphard Black, Ed Westwick as Cygnus Black, and just as siders: Rachel Leigh Cook as Moaning Myrtle and Annasophia Robb as Olive Hornby. Before you're annoyed with me about Rachel Leigh Cook: The girl who played Myrtle in the movies was actually 35, and Rachel is younger and only 5'2''. Put her in glasses and robes and she's our Myrtle:)**

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><p>Chapter Three:<p>

Hermione Duerre of Hamilton Place

September 19th, 1937

"Mummy, I still don't understand why I can't go to Hogwarts _this _year. I _am _eleven!"

"I've told you a hundred times, darling," her mother said exasperatedly, but her voice was laced with amusement. "You can't go until next year, because you were born after September 1st. It's just the rules, love, nothing I can change." She stroked back her daughter's hair affectionately, and Hermione smiled up at her.

"I know, I just _really_ want to go."

"You can't, Hermione, so dispose of the matter." Her father's sharp voice intervened, and Hermione's head drooped.

"Forgive me, father." She said rehearsedly. He nodded absently, turning his attention back to the newspaper.

"Anyway, love, Walburga isn't attending till next year either, so you wouldn't be with her."

"But Lucretia is there!" Hermione countered, following her mother as she moved around the kitchen. Though they had house elves, there were evenings when Astrid Duerre just couldn't resist her fascination with cooking, and neither her daughter nor husband had any protests. "And Ignatius!"

"You know I don't approve of you hanging around those boys, Mya. They rough house too much!" Gaston Duerre boomed from his seat in the dining room, and both women rolled their eyes.

"They're respectable Pureblood boys, Gaston," said Astrid, setting her husbands plate in front of her and giving him a loving kiss on the cheek. "Not criminals."

"Still, far too rough for our Mya. You should be inside studying your arts, not _rolling_ in the _mud_. Besides, what have I told you about those hooligans?"

Hermione sighed as she stepped over to her father and recited in a monotone, "Boys have cooties, and cooties are contagious, and contagions make you die. Therefore, it would be in my best interest to stay away from boys at all costs, _especially_ handsome ones."

"That's my baby girl," Hermione smiled as her father pulled her onto his lap. Gaston Duerre was a strict man, but he was also a loving father and a doting husband.

"Don't go converting her, darling," Astrid chimed from the kitchen. "You know one day she will have to marry one of those hooligans."

Both Gaston and his daughter scrunched up their noses in disgust.

"Ew, _mum_," Hermione groaned.

"_Astrid_," her husband complained.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just being realistic."

Hermione giggled, taking her seat across from her father. The three of them sat around a small, round table. They only used the main dining room when they had guests.

As her mother and father discussed some affair at her father's work, Hermione's mind wandered to what it would be like when she finally attended Hogwarts. Her best friend, Walburga Black, would be starting the same year as her, and her other friend, Lucretia, had started a year ahead of them. Their youngest friend, Druella Rosier, wouldn't be in attendance until the year after Hermione and Walburga started.

She imagined the rolling mountains of green grass, extending far beyond sight. The deep, black lake which she had heard so many tales from her mother. Her father had attended Beauxbatons, but her mother had stories upon stories to tell of Hogwarts and its many adventures.

"So, shall we go over to Walburga's? They're all eager to wish you a happy birthday." Hermione brightened at the prospect of seeing her best friend and nodded eagerly. She hurried upstairs to get a cardigan and then raced down the stairs, stumbling to a halt as she encountered her father's towering form at the bottom. He was standing with his arms crossed, his left foot tapping _rat-tap-tap-rat-tap-tap_. It was a sure sign that he was annoyed.

"Hermione." She swallowed. He only called her by her full name when he was aggravated with her. Otherwise, her either called her 'Mya' or 'Mionette'. "What have I told you about running?"

Hermione straightened her back, little chin pointed up as it always was whenever she was saying something that she felt to be of great importance. "It is unbecoming of a young lady to engage in anything more than a brisk walk."

"And _why_ were you in engaging in such activities that you know to be unallowed?"

"I….was…..excited…." Hermione said meekly, her head tilting upwards to look at her father. His lips twitched before he let out a chuckle, swooping down at picking her up. Despite being eleven years old, Hermione was fairly small in size.

"Don't do it again, Mya," he told her, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Never, daddy." He tapped her nose affectionately and set her down. They flooed over to the Black's household, and Walburga was waiting in front of the fireplace excitedly.

"What took you so long? Did you get in trouble again?" Hermione looked down shamefacedly at her feet and Walburga rolled her eyes. "You did!" She sighed dramatically, marching over and pulling her friend by the hand. "Merlin, Hermione, I've so much to teach you, my young friend."

"I'm older than you!" Hermione protested weakly, giggling.

The two girls spent most of their time together discussing next year, when they would be attending Hogwarts. Walburga, not yet eleven, was less concerned about the size of the library and more concerned about the selection of males.

"And I saw this one boy, in Diagon Alley, his name was Charleston Fitzwilliam. Isn't that an utterly _romantic _name? He was gorgeous, I bet he had a six pack." Hermione decided not to mention that she didn't think eleven-year-olds _could _have six packs. Actually, she decided not to mention altogether that Walburga really shouldn't be such a pervert. She knew fifteen-year-olds who didn't think about boys as much as the young witch.

"You'll be in Slytherin, though?" Hermione interrupted the girl, and she briefly glared at her before brushing it off.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. I don't think Ravenclaw would be all that bad."

Walburga made a face of disgust. "Lucretia wrote and said that Ravenclaw's are stiff wad bookworms."

Hermione sniffed, mildly offended. "I think the value of astuteness far outweight consequence of _cunning _and _self-preservation_."

Walburga shrugged. "Either way, I reckon the sorting hat will chose for us, even if it does let us have a say."

Hermione nodded, seeming more nonchalant than she actually was. She knew her parents could less what house she was in; they had told her time and time again that her personal value would not diminish because of a label. But Hermione knew that it _would _make a difference. If she were in Ravenclaw, Walburga and she wouldn't be as close as they were. What house you were in determined where you rotated in the circle.

After a second lunch, they moved the party back to Hermione's house. Cygnus and Alphard arrived at one in the afternoon. Even though she and Walburga were close, there were times when Hermione preferred the company of the two boys. They asked few questioned, and were rarely frivolous, something that Hermione could appreciate greatly.

They wanted to play hide-and-seek today, and the girls were all up for the entertainment. As the quartet made their way into the backyard, they selected Cygnus as the counter. Even though it didn't look like it from the front, the Duerre estate had extensive grounds. It was an old charm, ancient magic that had been placed on the houses centuries ago, and Hermione was fascinated by it.

Hermione raced into the woods, glancing backwards over her shoulder at Cygnus' shrinking form. Though they'd never admit it, Cygnus and Alphard were terrified of the woods. Hermione didn't fully blame them; they were younger than her. But she found it amusing that something that she found so utterly beautiful could induce fright into another.

Her feet padded the forest floor softly as she lept deftly over fallen tree limbs and overgrown roots. The autumn leaves rustled against her bare feet, and the shadows in and out of focus eerily. It was not a particularly inviting forest. It was not full of flowers and bunnies and soft green grass. The trees were tall and ominous-looking in their appearance, and the trunks were knotted with holes. Sharp thorns adorned the bushes, and the animals made strange noises in the dim light. Despite all of this, it was one of her favorite places in the world.

_Hermione_

She froze, her eyes searching the surrounding bushes. She could see no sign of movement, but that did no mean that someone was not there.

_Hermione Duerre_

Perhaps it was the shadows playing tricks on her. She had simply deluded herself into thinking she was hearing things, she told herself nervously, backing up with the thought in mind to make a break back for the house.

_I can see your past, present and future_

If Hermione didn't know better, she would think that the person was speaking Parsletongue. The words were spoken in such a soft hiss that it sounded very similar to the strange language. However, Hermione knew that if they _were _speaking Parsletongue, she wouldn't be able to understand them.

"Who are you?" she called softly, internally cursing at how weak she sounded.

_I can see your fate. It is you dessstiny_

"What's my destiny? Who are you?" There was a sudden burst of air two her lefts and Hermione whirled, only to see a clump of dark robes disappear into thin air.

She returned to the yard quite shaken, to see a very annoyed Cygnus, Walburga, and Alphard. "Where _were _you?" the youngest boy complained. "I called for a give, but you didn't come, I-I say, are you quite alright?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, attempting to calm herself. "Yes, I-yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I wandered rather deeper into the woods than I expected, and it took me a while to find my way out."

"You need to be more careful," Walburga said reprovingly. "There are werewolves in that forest."

"There are _not _werewolves!" Alphard exclaimed. "That's completely ridiculous! Besides-" The two of them continued to argue as they went inside, Cygnus following. Hermione started to go in after them, and then turned to face the woods one last time.

An cloaked figure stood at the border of the woods, their face hidden by a hood. From this distance, Hermione could see the figure raise a hand and wave in a friendly manner. Hermione felt a surge of terror shoot through, and she quickly went inside, her hands still trembling and her head pouding from the words she could not get out of it.

_It is your destiny_

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><p><strong>AN: So here's the third chapter. Bit short, I'm afraid, but I'll make up for it, I promise! Next chapter will be Hermione's sorting. **

**Few things:**

**Whenever I think of Pureblood women, I imagine that they were raised there entire lives to think that they just needed to grow up and find a husband. Thus, this is what I portrayed Walburga as: A boy-crazy girl with the hormones of a teenager:)**

**Also, just in case anyone caught that, when she mentions Ignatius, she's referring to Ignatius Prewett, Molly Weasley nee Prewett's Uncle. **

**Right, I think thats it. I hope you all enjoyed, and please review!**

**xoxo**


	4. The Methods of the King

**A/N: Heyy guys! Chapter 4! I'm really nervous about this chapter, so be sure to tell me what you think! There was something about it that just felt...off...so if you catch something...Yeah, anyway! :D This chapter covers like their entire first year in a short span of writing, and I'm not going to be covering all of the years at Hogwarts! I'm just hitting the important parts of their lives! I think next chapter will either hit Hermione's fourth, fifth, or sixth year, I can't decide! If you guys wanna put in your two cents and pick which year it should be, feel free too!**

**Hope you like! Up up and away! :D**

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><p>Chapter Four:<p>

The Methods of the King

September 1st, 1938

Hermione stumbled forward as the train gave a great lurch, and she clasped onto Walburga's shoulder to regain balance. Only she realized it wasn't Walburga. The boy who she had grabbed turned around, a frown marring his handsome face.

"Sorry," she said, holding his gaze as he narrowed his eyes at her. The boy was about two inches taller than her, and his blonde hair stuck out at odd angles. He gazed at her coolly, and Hermione immediately knew that this was a member of one of the prestigious Pureblood families that ran in the circle with her own parents.

"Hermione! Where'd you run off too—oh! Hi, Abraxas!" Walburga had appeared over the boys shoulder, and he turned, his cold expression transforming into a friendly smile.

"Walburga. And who's your friend?"

"This is Hermione," Walburga said, moving to stand beside her. "Hermione _Duerre_." The emphasis on her surname, she knew, was to assure him of her status. The tensed muscles in his face relaxed and a charming grin spread across his face. He held out a hand and she took it.

"Hermione Duerre, it's a pleasure. Abraxas Malfoy, at your service."

"Charmed, I'm sure," was her dignified response. Walburga led the two of them down the train corridor until they came to an empty compartment.

"So, what do you reckon it's going to be like? Walburga asked when they all sat down, and Hermione was surprised to hear a bit of nervousness in the younger girl's voice. "I bet I'll get caught in one of the trick staircases."

"Don't be foolish," Abraxas sneered. "Only idiots like Longbottom's and Weasley's are foolish enough to do that." There was no trace of haughtiness in his tone; he was merely stating it like a fact.

Hermione pulled _Hogwarts, A History _out of her bag and opened it, flipping through the pages eagerly. She had already read it twice this summer, but she felt like there was always more to learn. Abraxas and Walburga engaged in a conversation about some scandal that the Charms professor had been involved in, but Hermione found it easy to tune them out. Only when the light coming from the window became insufficient to read did she realize that they were nearing Hogwarts.

The students began to pile off the train, and the large, Black gamekeeper, Ogg, led the first years towards the boats. Abraxas, Walburga and Hermione climbed into one, along with a pale, dark haired boy with a blunt nose and amber eyes.

"Reckon we could tip it?" he said in a low voice to Abraxas, and the boys looked back at the girls with mischievous grin to gauge their reactions. Walburga glared at the dark haired boy.

"Very funny, Myles. Honestly, grow up." The boy snorted and turned back around to face the front of the boat. Hermione waited with growing anticipation. Of course, she had heard stories and seen pictures of the great castle, but she was sure nothing—

Her breath caught in her throat as they rounded a bend and out of the darkness loomed the Hogwarts castle. It was bigger than she could ever have imagined. The windows were lit up like jack-o-lanterns on Halloween.

"Not bad," Hermione heard Abraxas say, trying and failing to sound unimpressed. The boats bumped into the land and the students clambered out, one particular student shivering, sopping wet and covered by an overlarge coat. It was obvious he had fallen in. Ogg led them up the steps and into the entrance hall. Waiting for them was a tall, auburn-bearded wizard that Hermione knew, even just by description.

"Good evening!" the wizard said cheerfully. His voice did not match his aged appearance. "My name is Professor Dumbledore. I'll be your transfiguration teacher. Now, in just a moment, all of you will be sorted into your houses. There are four houses here at Hogwarts; Gryffindor, founded by Godric the Brave, Ravenclaw, founded by Rowena the Wise, Hufflepuff, founded by Helga the Loyal, and Slytherin, founded by Salazar the Cunning. Each house is represented by each of these characteristics. Please, wait here, and I'll call you in when we're ready for you."

Dumbledore strode out of the Entrance Hall, and nervous titters broke out among the students.

"Gryffindor, house of the brave," Hermione heard Abraxas' pompous voice above the rest. "More like house of the recklessly idiotic." Lestrange blustered with laughter.

"Oi, you, shut it, will ya?" A tall, lanky redhead stepped out of the group. He wore his hair longer than his peers, and had so many freckles that he nearly looked tanned. "Both my parents were in Gryffindor."

Abraxas eyed the boy with ill-disguised regard. "Let me guess. You're a Weasley."

The boy tilted his head defiantly. He was taller than Abraxas, but Abraxas seemed to draw his height from endless self-confidence.

"Yes."

The blonde stepped closer to the redhead, his expression menacing. "Then I wouldn't be surprised if your parents were not only Gryffindors, but filthy little blood traitors too, yeah?" A feral growl emitted from the Weasley's throat, and Abraxas stepped back, looking satisfied. Hermione felt a pang of pity for the boy as his ears turned very red, but then immediately dismissed it, remembering what Abraxas had said.

_Blood traitor_.

Hermione had heard the word her entire life. The word had usually been associated with people at her father's work, occasional mentioned at her mother's dinner parties, and most often applying to the Weasley's.

According to her mother, father, and Walburga, the Weasley's were every bit as Pureblood as the Black's, the Malfoy's and the Duerre's, but there association with Muggles and Muggleborns diminished their respectability in society.

Dumbledore had returned and, smiling brightly at them, he led them into the Great Hall. Hermione held her head high, noting the burning gazes on all of the first years. She spotted Lucretia and Ignatius at the Slytherin table, and she waved at them. Ignatius gave her a reassuring grin, and Lucretia inclined her head, a small smirk curling around the corner of her lips.

Dumbledore gathered them all at the bottom of a small set of stairs that led up to the staff table. A single stool sat in front of the table, and on top of it was the most revolting hat that Hermione had ever seen in her life. Dumbledore turned to face them, beaming widely. He clapped his hands, and before Hermione could blink, a long roll of parchment zoomed out of nowhere and appeared in Dumbledore's hands. He unrolled it, cleared his throat, and said in a carrying voice, "Abbott, Oliver!" A blonde boy moved forward, visibly trembling, and sat down on the stool. It was a few seconds, and then, to Hermione's fascination, the brim of the old, ragged hat split in two and roared, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table directly on Hermione's right burst into applause. Oliver grinned, obviously relieved, and trotted over to the table that welcomed him with open arms.

"Anderson, Ramón!" The next boy, a thin, brown skinned boy, was sorted into Ravenclaw, and the table on Hermione's left clapped loudly, blue and bronze banners hanging proudly above them.

"Black, Walburga!" Hermione felt Walburga freeze beside her and she gave her a little shove forward. Shaking herself out of her stupor, Walburga straightened her back, stuck up her nose, and glided forward with a cool arrogance that only she could master.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat had hardly even touched her head. Walburga smirked, rising gracefully and heading over to the Slytherin table on the far left of the hall, but Hermione could see her shoulders sag in relief.

Dumbledore continued to call through the names, and Hermione felt her apprehension growing with each passing second. She watched Marcia Bulstrode and Desdemone Crabbe be sorted into Slytherin, and four other students were sorted before it was her turn.

"Duerre, Hermione!" From the crowd, she heard someone catcall, and immediately recognized it as Ignatius. Behind her back, she flipped the bird in the direction of the Slytherin table and she heard his booming laugh. She sat down, looking up at Dumbledore, who gave her a kind smile before lowering the hat down over her eyes.

_My, my, my! _Hermione jumped and she heard several chuckled out in the Great Hall. _I have never seen such an intelligent mind. Quite a mind you've got, my dear, quite a mind. But no, I do not believe that you belong in Ravenclaw._

**Why not? **Hermione thought. The hat chuckled in her ear.

_Far too resilient, my dear, too resourceful. Brave, too, terribly brave, yes. But no, not Gryffindor, it would only quench your cunning. Oh, yes, I can sense it with in you. Yes, yes, no doubt where you belong-_

"SLYTHERIN!" The final word had been a shout, and Hermione felt the hat being lifted off of her head. Dumbledore gave her an encouraging nudge and she walked towards the Slytherin table, sliding in between Walburga and Lucretia.

"Excellent, excellent!" Walburga said, beaming and hugging the older girl tightly around the neck. "I was afraid you'd end up in Ravenclaw. You're too smart for your own good, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning to watch the rest of the sorting. Dumbledore had just called up a "Longbottom, Jem", and the sopping wet boy attempted to move out of the crowd. Abraxas stuck out a foot, and he a boy named Theodore Nott roared with laughter as the blushing boy hurried up the steps, cramming the hat over his red face. It was several minutes, and then the tattered old hat finally screamed out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Dumbledore continued to call names, and slowly the group of students at the base of the stairs diminished, until there was only a few left.

"Riddle, Tom!" Hermione heard Walburga make a sound in the back of her throat and she turned towards the girl.

"Merlin, he's _gorgeous_," the dark haired girl said breathily. "He's like a _god_." Hermione rolled her eyes, but could not disagree with her friend. The boy was indeed, as Walburga had described, _gorgeous_. He was very tall, for only eleven, with high cheek bones and dark, impeccably neat hair. He moved with a sort of elegance that Hermione admired, and as he sat down and was sorted into Slytherin, his facial expression did not change from its impassive state.

"Reckon he's a Mudblood?" she heard Abraxas say to Myles. "I've never heard of the name 'Riddle'." But he stopped talking as the boy sat down a couple of seats from them, though his eyes did not move from the pale boy's face.

Hermione, too, found her eyes drawn to him, like a moth to a light. There was something so sinister, yet so alluring about his presence. His head turned, suddenly, and his eyes met hers. She did not look away, but met his gaze challengingly. He stared expressionlessly at her, his cool gaze slightly unnerving. Finally, the smallest of smirks curled at the corner of his lips, and he looked away. Hermione felt a small shiver dance down her spine, and she directed her attention towards Walburga.

_What sort of person would choose such a life?_

_**Can you think of no one? **_

Hermione jerked spasmodically, clearing her head of such thoughts. Where had that even come from? As far as she remembered, she had never heard those words in her life.

This was getting strange. First, the voice in the forest, and now the voice in her head. She wondered if it was part of developing her magic, if this happened to everyone.

"What happened to them?" Hermione was drawn out of her thoughts by Walburga's whispering voice. She, Abraxas and Myles had their heads bent close together.

"Apparently, his entire village was attacked by a pack of nundus."

"What's a nundu?" Myles asked dubiously. Hermione nearly rolled her eyes.

"It's an East African animal. Arguably, they're the most dangerous animals in the world. It's a gigantic leopard that moves silently. Its breath causes disease virulent enough to eliminate—"

"—entire villages. It has never yet been subdued by fewer than a hundred skilled wizards working together." Hermione blinked, turning to face whoever had spoken. It was the pale, dark haired boy-Tom Riddle-and he sneered at her as he spoke.

"Almost a direct quote from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._"

Abraxas and Myles guffawed with laughter, and the boy turned away, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Hermione's face flushed, and her eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

"Maybe Wally's right, Duerre. Maybe you _do_ belong in Ravenclaw."

Hermione sniffed, looking disgustedly at the two of them. "And maybe the two of you are jealous because you both have the brain cells of a flobberworm."

That silenced both of the boys rather effectively.

But as Hermione turned away from both of them, she saw that Riddle was eyeing her with approval. She tilted her head back defiantly, and he arched a single eyebrow, gave a singe nod, and turned away. He almost seemed to be….condoning her actions.

_As if __**I **__need his approval for anything! He, a filthy little….half-blood, at best! __**He **__thinks __**I **__need __**his **__approval?_

Well, that simply would not do at all.

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><p>Hermione enjoyed her classes immensely, and was learning more and more with each passing month. She would be in denial to say that her teachers were not impressed with her, but it would also be a denial to say that she was top of the year.<p>

No, always ahead, always doing just a notch better than she did on exams, was _Tom Riddle_. He was ever the prodigy, ever the teachers favorite, and ever successfully flawless. He seemed to achieve better marks than she without even trying. That was what aggravated Hermione the most.

Abraxas, Myles, and the rest of the Slytherin house shunned him. It had been discovered that he had a Muggle for a father, and since then, nothing but contempt was shown towards him from his housemates. He didn't seem bothered by it. On the contrary, he seemed to find their disgust in his heritage amusing. It all bewildered Hermione to no end. She didn't understand how someone could be so accepting of other people's hatred towards them.

Hermione was the first to find out.

The evening was warm, and it was just before dinner on a Saturday, so she was alone outside. She often wandered the grounds by herself, to clear her head. She was close to Walburga, Abraxas and Myles, but sometimes she felt so…._different_….from them. Like it wasn't entirely where she belonged. Nearly a year had past since she had started at Hogwarts, and she felt it had gone entirely too quickly.

The sound of a page rustling alerted her of another presence, and she looked up to see Riddle leaning against a tree, not ten feet from her. His face was impassive, even as he read, and she could not decipher his thoughts. As though he felt her gaze, he looked up and met her eyes.

"Duerre," he said coolly. "Is staring at me a common pastime, or is there a particular reason behind your strange attention?"

She scowled, trudging over to where he sat. "What're you reading anyway?" she spat disinterestedly. She tipped her head sideways, attempting to get a look at the cover. "_Tracing Back Your Heritage; A Guide to Unlocking the Keys of Your Past_. Not satisfied with just having a Muggle father, Riddle? Want to see if there are any squibs on your tree?"

She got a perverse amount of satisfaction in teasing him. He never teased back, not past an intellectual level, so it was the one way she could best him. He turned back to his book, and Hermione wondered if he had elected to ignore her.

"Or maybe you want to see if your Muggle father was a drunk? _I _heard you grew up in an orphanage, with a bunch of other Muggles."

He stood and drew his wand on her so suddenly that she barely had time to gasp before it was at her throat, digging in so deep that it hurt. His face was void of any emotions, but his eyes were swirling with a torrent of fury.

"You will learn, Duerre," his voice was controlled, but she sensed a dark undertone to it. "That not everyone is as they appear. You would be stupid to think that you can underestimate me, and you've given me enough evidence to doubt your stupidity, although your sophistication is questionable." She blushed under his intense gaze. "However, you will learn….they all will." The last part seemed to have been whispered, not for her ears. "Now…._Immobulus_." Hermione suddenly found herself unable to move and felt fear seep through her veins. That was a difficult spell to manage. She hadn't even attempted it yet. And if he could manage spells like that….

"_Serpensortia_," he said lowly. A long, darkly-colored snake burst out of his wand, landing on the ground in front of her. Hermione started to recoil, when she remembered that she could not move. The snake turned its great head, studying the caster with its beady eyes, and to Hermione's shock, he started to hiss to it, his mouth forming strange words that she did not understand. The snake turned to her, starting to circle her, its long, fork-like tongue darting out and tasting the skin of her hand. Hermione would've shivered if she could've.

"If you haven't figured it out, _Miss_ _Duerre_, I am a Parselmouth. And the only known Parselmouth's were….."

_Herpo the Foul and Salazar Slytherin. Which would mean that Riddle is either a descendant of Herpo the Foul or-_

"Salazar Slytherin, yes, very good." Riddle seemed to have been watching her very closely. "You're even more intelligent than I thought. Yes, Miss Duerre, I _am _a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, which would make myself more Pureblood than you and all of your little _friends_ put together."

He seemed to have removed the immobilizing charm, because she found herself able to move again. "I'm sor—"

"I'm sure you are," he said coldly, a sinister glint in your eyes. "And you certainly will be when I'm done with you."

Hermione would never forget that night.

How he administered spells so smoothly, so effortlessly, spells that she did even think were _on _a first year level. She envied the power he radiated as he tortured her, with ways much more creative than the much esteemed Cruciatus Curse that she had heard older students discussing. Her skin still prickled, even hours, even days after it had happened, and she could never quite forget how utterly terrifying he had been as he caused her pain, the look of satisfaction as her mouth formed silent screams.

It had taken her breath away.

She had told Abraxas, Myles, and Walburga, because she knew it was what he wanted. He wanted them to know, to learn….

_They all will learn_.

And now they knew. Abraxas and Myles both hadn't believed her at first. They had confronted him, demanding to know why he'd hurt their little 'Mionette'. But they discovered quickly, very quickly, that she was not one to bluff.

Hermione heard both of them scream, simultaneously, before Riddle executed his silencing charm, yet another spell that had been rumored to be accomplished on by someone _at least _in their forth year.

She saw them slowly submit, each and every one of them. Even the older Slytherin's learned their place. It was the end of the year, but that didn't matter. They knew now.

Malfoy, Lestrange, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott. She saw each and every one of them cower as they passed him in the hallways, or become silent under his calm, but promisingly menacing glare. She did not blame them.

Not one bit.

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><p><strong>AN: There we are! Sorry their first year ended a bit abruptly, but I thought that was an (ish) good way to end it. I'm sorry if some of you expected Hermione to be the rebellious, Gryffindor Goddess that we all love, but since Hermione was sorted into Slytherin, I was planning on having her be relatively submissive to Riddle and respectively afraid. Don't worry, she'll still have her courageousness though! **

**I hope nobody thought that Tom and Hermione weren't too mature for their age. They're both really intelligent, so I though their sophistication level should be a bit higher than the rest of their classmates, and that they should know things that others don't. Before anyone gets mad at me, Tom DIDN'T use any unforgiveables in this chapter, cuz I know, even though he's amazing, he isn't capable of unforgiveables at this stage. What he used will be revealed...later. **

**For anyone who was wondering about the boys who were seen at the Slugclub with Tom in Slughorn's memory, McNair, Mulciber and Avery, I believe it was, they will come into the story later too:)**

**Review! be NICE! please:)**


	5. A Thin Line Between Hatred and

**A/N: Heyy everybody! Long time no update! Not making excuses, but I just started my sophmore year in high school, and the homework load is ridiculous! I know its been forever, but I really hope this chapter meets all of your expectations! Thank you for the lovely reviews, they make my heart smile :) **

**Review if you please! No flames, them make my muy triste :(**

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><p>Chapter 5:<p>

A Thin Line Between Hatred and…

September 1st, 1939

"And I reckon it won't matter, judging by the scores that I got on my exams last year. I'm second in our year, have I already told you?"

Her father chuckled, patting her head affectionately. "Only twenty or so times, love."

"You're sure you have everything?" Her mother asked hurriedly. "All your books, your clothes—"

"—my cauldrons, my quills, my ink, all my socks, and Athena is in her cage, and _yes, mum_, I promise to write _at least _once a week!" She grinned cheekily up at her mother, who smiled apologetically at her.

"Sorry, love, I just can't believe you're starting your second year already."

"Mum, I told you….Tom! Hey! Wait up for me, will you?"

The boy in question turned, arching an eyebrow in mock exasperation, but stopped and waited obligingly. Hermione lunged for her trunk, giving her mother and father fleeting kisses. "See you at Christmas!" She called over her shoulder. She caught up to Tom, smiling brightly at him.

"How was your summer?" she asked as they started to walk again.

He shrugged, making such a carefree movement seem utterly graceful. "The Muggles continue to astound me with their ability to know absolutely nothing." She rolled her eyes, bounding up the train steps two at a time. "You seem to be in relatively high spirits today," Tom noted as he followed her into a compartment."

"Mummy and daddy promised to buy me the entire _Elements of Magic _collection for my birthday if I kept my grades up. It has all this fascinating stuff about the boundaries of magic, and how—"

"I know," Tom said in a clipped tone, and she took that as a motive to shut up. She rested her chin on her hand, staring out of the window at the disappearing station. It had been months since she had seen Hogwarts, with its towering structures and glassy lakes, and she could hardly stand the excitement of returning.

"I reckon I'll never want to leave, when the time comes," Tom intoned, and she looked at him, wondering if he could read her thoughts. He gave her a half-smile. "Your emotions read over on your face." She laughed.

"I don't think I ever could leave, even if they tried to make me. Not for good, anyway. After we graduate, I'll probably come back to teach. It's….too much of a home to just abandon it."

He glanced over at her. "That's not a bad idea. I might consider it…..I just might…."

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence. They both knew that once they returned to Hogwarts, there would be little time for thinking. Abraxas and Myles, as amusing as they were, demanded attention, and one could hardly have two moments of silence when they were around.

Hermione and Tom followed the rest of the second years over to the carriages, and climbed into one with a pair of upper classmen, Elliot Prince and Tyrian Brown. Hermione engaged in immediate conversation with the two of them, while Tom stared moodily out of the window. Tyrian, a sixth year Hufflepuff, was rather ditzy, and definitely on the less-intelligent side of the scale, but he was a Pureblood, therefore neither of them had any qualms with associating with him.

The castle looked just the same as Hermione remembered it. Every deep crack in its wall, every scuff mark on the stone floor; they were all familiar to her. She even saw Tom's normally cold eyes light up as it loomed out of the darkness, tall and glowing.

Dippet gave his usual speech before the first years were sorted. Alphard and Druella both ended up in Slytherin, along with a boy named Aides Avery, a Victoria Greengrass, and a Dunkan Tripe.

"Your father's the famous Vampire slayer, isn't he?" Abraxas direction this question to the Tripe boy, who nodded.

"Allen Tripe, tha's him. Ruddy annoying sometimes, though, him bringing home the fangs and the nails e'ry other week. One time he even brough' home one of them's hearts in a jar. Couldn't never look at that jar the same, I couldn't."

Abraxas and Myles roared with laughter, while Walburga looked faintly ill. Tom caught Hermione's eye and shook his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and she grinned.

Later that evening, in the common, she, Tom, Abraxas, Myles, Desdemone, Joseph, and Theodore all sat around the fire, immensely stuffed from that nights feast. The girls had already gone up to bed, but Hermione sat on one of the couches with the boys, deep in thought.

"—the filthy Mudblood actually had the nerve to look me in the face after Grindelwald just _murdered _his _family_. I wanted to tell him that he deserved it, but Dumbledore was right there, and you know how that old coot is." Abraxas' disgusted voice reached her ears, and she glanced up at him.

"Why'd he look at you, though? He barely knows you, right?" Theodore questioned.

"We had a little…..dispute earlier that day in the library, and I called him a nasty little Muggle right to his face. I reckon he thinks that if Grindelwald's killing off Muggles, _all _the Pureblood's are in on it."

"What an idiot!" Myles growled. "Surely we'd be much sneakier if we were killing Mudbloods." The boys laughed.

Hermione blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Abraxas was staying up in France over the summer, and Grindelwald's men attacked near the place they were staying. Some Muggles got killed, and they were collecting all the Mudblood children to take them to a safe house." It was Joseph who answered.

"You'd think the idiots would know how to cover a crime," Theodore remarked dryly.

"Perhaps…that is not their intention." Everyone's attention shifted as Tom spoke. He was sitting proudly in his armchair, his arms slung across the armrests, legs resting on the table. Hermione peered at him through several strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

"What d'you mean, Tom?" Abraxas asked breathlessly.

"What do I mean?" Tom seemed to ponder the question. "Hmm….well, _maybe_, their intention was not to cover the crime, but to instill fear in their opponents' hearts. Did the men not get away?" A nod from one of the boys confirmed his statement. "But they left their mark?" Another nod. "Then people will know that they can commit a crime without being imprisoned. Naturally, one of the most terrifying prospects to innocents."

The fire crackling was the only noise in the room, until Desdemone Crabbe, one of the less intelligent boys, asked, "So, they _want _to get caught?"

"I think that Tom was suggesting that they're proving to people that they can commit a crime without fear of being arrested." Hermione said gently, smoothly cutting off Tom's sharp response. "You don't need to snap at him, Tom," she added. She watched the boys around her tense. It seemed to amaze them, how she talked to Tom. It wasn't that she didn't fear him as much as they did. It was just that she knew Tom's boundaries.

"It's just a little frustrating," he said slowly. "I forget that none of you are on the same intellectual level as I am." Several of the boys chuckled nervously, and Hermione wondered if they knew that his comment had been deprecating them.

"None of us?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows in an 'Are you sure?' manner. He smirked, an expression that sent chills down her spine.

"You, I will admit, Duerre, are close. _Very _close." The flattery made her blush, though her intention had been to undermine him, and she looked back down at her book, mumbling a quick, "Thank you."

As the weeks passed, Hermione found herself spending more and more time with Tom. Although he was still, first and foremost, _master_, he was also an intellectual companion and excellent for conversation. Second year classes weren't much more difficult than first year classes had been, and Hermione breezed by with excellent marks. At the end of the month, she received her _Elements of Magic_, which she generously shared with Tom.

December came, and she decided to stay at the castle. Most of the boys were going home, save for Desdemone, Theodore, and Tom and she thought it was going to be a rather lonely Christmas. Her father had written to her that her mother had fallen ill, and he thought it would be best if the house was quiet on Christmas, but that they'd send their gifts and their love. Hermione tried not to feel too disappointed, but wrote to her father that she hoped her mother got better soon.

"Ah, Miss Duerre, so happy to see you've joined us!" Hermione grinned as she sat down beside the three boys, nodding at Professor Dumbledore's greeting. The house tables had all been pushed up against the wall, and had been replaced by one, single, long table that fit all of the Hogwarts Christmas inhabitants. Seven Gryffindors had stayed, including Jack Weasley and Jem Longbottom, two Ravenclaws, including their fellow 2nd year, Gertrude Macmillan, five Hufflepuffs, and the four Slytherin's. The Professors all sat around the table, each looking equally ridiculous, donning hats. A large pile of head garments sat in the middle of the table.

"Feel free to indulge," Dumbledore said cheerfully, winking at the Slytherin's. Hermione grinned, picking up a pair of antlers and setting them on her head.

"How do I look?" She asked Tom, grinning goofily. He shook his head.

"Take those off, you look ridiculous."

"Actually, I think I saw one in here that would suit you very nicely." She dug through the pile until she pulled out a jewel-encrusted crown. She set it on top of his hair, and it slipped sideways so that it sat crooked upon his head. He smirked at her, and she realized how becoming the crown really was.

"How do I look?"

Hermione blushed, looking down at her plate, but from the corner of her eyes, she saw his smirk broaden. "What's wrong, Duerre? Cat got your tongue?" She shoved him away, giggling playfully.

"Cut it out, Tommy!"

He froze. "Don't call me that."

Her eyebrows raised, her lips turning upward teasingly. "Oh, I'm sorry, does it bother you…._Tommy?"_

"I'm serious, Duerre," he snarled, scowling as he turned away from her.

"Oh, Tom, I'm only teasing," she said, knocking him playfully with her shoulder. He quirked an eyebrow down at her, but said nothing, going back to his food. Hermione turned back to her plate as well, but all throughout the meal, a small smile graced her face.

* * *

><p>Months passed and Hermione soon found the end of the year approaching. The 2nd years had a finished their end of the year tests and were relaxing out by the lake. It had taken Abraxas and Myles twenty minutes of coaxing to convince Hermione not to go to the library and start studying next year's material.<p>

Abraxas, Myles, and Des were splashing each other in the lake, all of them nearly drenched, and Theodore leaned up against the tree, a book in his lap. Hermione sat cross-legged in front of Tom, her wand focused on the flower that sat in his open palm.

"Focus," he breathed. "It's all about what is happening in your mind."

She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and chanting the spell in her head again. _Incendio Incendio Incendio…._

The flower burst into flame, and Tom vanished it, a small, impressed smile spreading across his face. "Well done," he told her, and she beamed. "There are sixth years who can't manage nonverbals. You're exceptional, Hermione."

She blushed under his intense gaze. "It's only because you taught me."

He inclined his head in agreement. "That is true. But you and me….we could be incredible together. We could push the boundaries of magic in ways that have never even been attempted. I've read things….amazing things…..and I know that this stuff they're teaching us in school, stunning charms and unlocking spells….magic isn't meant to be confined like that. We could do…._extraordinary _things."

"You think?" she asked breathlessly.

"Trust me," he purred.

And it didn't scare her that she did.

"Miss Duerre!"

She turned. Professor Dumbledore was striding across the lawns, his normally happy face strangely solemn. She stood as he reached them. "Professor Dippet would like a word."

"Sir, what—"

"Please, Miss Duerre," he said gently, and Hermione was alarmed to see pity welling in his eyes. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be. Come with me."

She glanced down at Tom, who nodded in affirmation, and she followed Dumbledore up to the castle.

"I'll be back," she breathed as she passed Tom.

"Hurry," he said softly.

Dumbledore seemed to have nothing to say as they made their way up to the Headmaster's office, and Hermione was utterly baffled. She had no idea what she possibly could have done. She had made sure not to involve herself in any of Abraxas and Myles' pranks, and she had stayed away from the Forbidden Forest, and she hadn't cheated on her exams, so what—

"Here we are, Hermione." She looked up at the Professor, who held the door open for her. He smiled at her, nudging her in gently and closing the door behind her.

A half an hour later, Hermione stumbled into the Slytherin common room, her hands shaking as she attempted to keep the tears from leaking out of her eyes. Abraxas, Myles, and Walburga were talking quietly, their voices lowered to such an extent that she could not hear them, did not care to hear them. Tom's head was bowed, but she could tell he was listening. They all looked up when she entered. She immediately saw Tom's eyes register on her rapidly tearing eyes.

"Hey, Mionette, what did old Dumbly need—say, are you alright?" she ignored Abraxas, moving across the common room to where Tom sat, stopping in front of his arm chair.

"Leave us," he said shortly, and the three of them immediately left the room, each up to their respective dormitories. Tom turned to her, and she sat down on the couch. The tears began to pour down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. She heard Tom rise out of his chair and heard his footsteps draw nearer to her. She lifted her head and watched him as he knelt in front of her, gently taking her wrists and pulling her hands away from her face. He peered at her impassively, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"My mother….has passed away….from Dragon Pox." Saying the words out loud seemed to bring a whole other wave of pain over her, and she winced, clutching at her arms, her nails digging into her skin. Tom tilted his head sideways, studying her.

"_Shh_," he hissed quietly, gently. He sat next to her on the couch, drawing her into his arms. "I am not used to you showing such weakness, my little serpent."

"I know," she said apologetically. "I just—I can't imagine what I did to deserve this. And my father….I don't know what he's going to do, all alone in that big house while I'm away for school."

"He'll marry again," he told her.

"He loved her," she replied, and she felt his lips frown against her forehead.

"That doesn't matter. If your father is truly the intelligent, respectable man that you make him out to be, he will pull himself together, if not for himself, than for your sake."

"Tommy, I've never been hurt so bad."

"And that is why it is better to feel nothing at all. So you can never be hurt again. You cannot let people have that advantage over you." He hesitated, stroking her hair absently. Her tears had long since subsided, and the silence was punctuated by her small, miserable hiccups. "I don't like seeing you in pain. It makes me uncomfortable."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "You're all I've got, aren't you, Tommy?"

He smirked, his cold mask slipping back into place as he arrogantly pulled her head against his chest, gripping her waist possessively.

"And don't you forget it, my little serpent."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Annnnnd there we are! I hope you enjoyed it! I've had Hermione's mother's death planned out for a while, but I didn't exactly know how to have her react to it, so I hope I did that okay. But I think Tom's reaction was fairly solid-I feel like he would've been slightly disapproving of her emotion, but glad that she had known who to run to for comfort and protection.**

**I apologize if anyone thinks the years are passing to fast. For the first few years I'm just going to be highlighting the important points, but I'll slow down around the fifth, sixth and seventh years, where things get spicy, haha! :)**

**Please review, don't be shy!**

**I love each and everyone of you!**

**xoxo**


	6. Rings of Saturn

**A/N: JEEZ it's been a while, ain't it? I'm terribly terribly sorry! I get all made at other authors because they don't update regularly, and I'm SUCH a hypocrite! This chapter took me a freakishly long time to write for some reason, and I REALLY hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K Rowling**

* * *

><p>Chapter Six:<p>

Rings of Saturn

_I remember the dry leaves of fall, brown and wilting. I remember the harshness of the bitter winter wind against my face. I remember spring, and the colors that bloom, pink, purple, white, red, yellow and every shade in between. I remember the blustering heat of the sun on my back, my neck, my skin, prickling and burning away, licking, like the flames of Hell, wrath so mighty that not the bravest of souls can escape it. _

_I remember him. At fifteen he was such a specimen to be hold. Locks of the deepest ebony, skin pale, like snow. That particular fairytale stood out in my mind above the rest. Snow White. Hair, dark as night, skin, white as alabaster. Lips, as red as an apple. But they never said anything about her eyes. _

_Those eyes, eyes that burned. Dancing eyes. Dancing with anger, passion, hatred, amusement, what? _

_Stronger and stronger he grows. Confidence erupts like lava spewing from the earth, destroying everything in its path. Fearless? Fear what? Fear nothing! Eat the pomegranate, he says. He is Hades, and I am Persephone, spiraling closer and closer toward my inevitable doom. Fury feeds the fire. Taller and taller, burning away at all the light inside of him, killing the very innocence that was once beheld. _

_Those eyes that tell nothing. _

_Autumn comes again. _

_The fire burns on._

* * *

><p>February 6th, 1942<p>

"Funny, how you never seem to _think_ before you act."

Hermione winced as Mulciber, a second year Slytherin, doubled over in pain, groaning as though he had been punched in the gut. Her eyes flickered over to Tom, who was looking down on the smaller boy coldly, his wand held lazily in his left hand. "Did it not occur to you that the Mudblood would _recognize _you if you did not precaution against such a thing happening?" He turned on his heel, leaving Mulciber kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "I wonder, at times, if I am the only one who _thinks _in this place." He looked at the circle of cloaked followers surrounding him, studying each of their faces in turn. Out of the twelve of them, Hermione was the only girl. "My friends, tell me, our goal, our _future_, ridding this world, the magical world, of Muggles and Mudbloods and those who pose a threat towards the noble Pureblood families of the future, should that goal be squandered away by the foolish actions and thoughtless decisions of your _inferior _minds?"

A chorus of "No, My Lord" 's rang out in the eerily empty room, and Tom must have realized that Hermione didn't chime in for, though he was not facing her, he inclined his head in her direction and said in a dangerously teasing voice, "What was that, Duerre?"

She scowled at his back, but, in a monotone, called, "No, My Lord."

"No, indeed," he murmured. Hermione bristled as he continued on with his ranting. For some reason, Tom always enjoyed making a spectacle out of her. She figured that it was because out of all the boys, she was the closest one to actually being _on _his level, and he knew that she needed to remember her place.

But Hermione found this _extremely _annoying-not that she would ever tell _him _that. She knew her place well enough, thank you very much, and she didn't need him reminding her of it every two seconds.

The other reason that Hermione hated him singling her out was the indisputable fact that, essentially, she _was _the only girl. And if she had to endure on more of Abraxas or Myles' comments about her being Riddle's _mistress_, she thought she'd explode.

"Meeting dismissed. Duerre, stay."

Hermione froze, her hand an inch from the door knob. She turned slowly, masking her fury but not being able to hold back a snarl upon seeing the identical knowing smirks on both Abraxas and Myles' faces. She waited until the last boy—A measly little first year named Jameson McNair-closed the door behind him, and then she slowly made her way towards him. He was seated in a narrow chair, slumped, looking more tired than ever, his elbow on the armrest as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. What am I to do with you?"

She shifted uncomfortably, cursing the flicker of guilt she felt at having disappointed him. Ignoring this, she jutted her chin out, looking down her nose at him in a way that she knew he hated. "I do not know what you mean."

He blinked once, twice, three times before slowly rising so that he now towered nearly a foot over her. She meekly looked up at him, not at all liking the reversal of their roles. "You're being a disrespectful little bitch, that's what."

Hermione was hardly fazed by the insult. That was one thing about Tom. He was very straightforward. If he had something to say, he would say it, regardless of how it affected your emotions.

He studied her closely, eyes narrowed in concentration, before he blinked again, drawing himself upright. "This is about the marks, isn't it?"

To Hermione's embarrassment, a bright red flush stained her cheeks, and a triumphant, feral grin spread across his lips. "So that _is _it?" He laughed delightedly, circling her like a lion circling his prey. "But, dear Hermione, you should be used to being outdone by me by now." The wording he used erupted something akin to fury in Hermione, and before she registered what she was doing, she withdrew her wand and flicked it in his direction. Unsurprisingly, he blocked it easily, but his eyes flashed with anger, and Hermione did not lower her wand, partly afraid that he would withdraw his own wand and curse her into oblivion. But instead he caught her wrist and pulled her very close to him, absently lifting a hand and tracing over the bare skin just above her collarbone.

"You know there is _nothing_," he breathed. "_Nothing _I love more about you than your unpredictability, Hermione, and when we're alone…." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "When we're alone, I will allow you to act upon the whims that your inner Gryffindor forces upon you, but when _they're _in here_…._" His expression became more serious, and Hermione swallowed thickly. "You _will _show me respect, regardless of whether or not your silly _self-righteousness _gets in the way." Hermione indignantly tilted her chin back and he chuckled, falling back easily into his chair, slinging his legs over the arms.

Hermione conjured a chair and placed it in front of his, her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands as she peered at him through a few fallen strands of hair. It had grown longer now, and nearly reached her lower back.

"I've a riddle for you, my little serpent." Tom said suddenly.

"Can I keep him?" Tom's lip curled up around the corner of his mouth, just the smallest fraction of an inch, but Hermione felt a burst of—_something_—in her stomach, that she, and she alone, was able to amuse Tom Riddle.

"I am wanted by many, hated by some. The downfall of leaders and swallowed by none. Seek me out and pain I will bring, for all men tremble before my king. What am I?"

Hermione sat up quite suddenly, feigning shock."Why, Tom, I hope you aren't referring to Myles' male anatomy!"

Tom glared disapprovingly at her, and she felt a sick sort of satisfaction at the anger burning behind the impassivity of his gaze. She could imagine the course that his thoughts had taken.

_How dare she speak of another man's anatomy in my presence? She belongs to me—she knows this! _

"Kidding, Tommy. Sorry, all I heard was 'swallowed by none.'" The anger in his expression diminished as he smirked and Hermione again felt her stomach do a front flip. "But….is it….pride?"

Tom smiled tiredly. "Very good, little mouse. You're intelligence continues to astound me. Soon enough you might actually surpass my marks." His voice was laced with sarcasm and, at the sound of it, Hermione felt her anger returning.

"You only beat me by a point," she grumbled, but she did not resist when Tom took her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. "I thought—I thought—"

"You thought that my own intelligence was waning and that you were growing more intelligent than I?" He suggested wryly. When she did not respond, he released her hand and watched with a smirk as she lifted it and absently tangled her fingers in his dark, thick locks. " Do not count on my own intelligence to fade, dear Hermione, you'll have to work hard to strengthen your own intelligence."

Hermione heard the underlying message in that. _Don't expect me to let go of my power so easily. If you want power, you'll have to work for it. Fight for it._

_Kill for it._

Hermione shuddered, drawing her chair closer to Tom's. His eyes were closed as he leaned into her touch, seemingly dozing. It made her feel special that he trusted her enough to let his guard down in her presence. No matter how much she resented the power he had over her, she would never _ever _do anything to harm Tom. He was all she had. Her father was a shell of himself since her mother's death, and her other friends were not _real _company. They might've been before, but now, after spending so much of her time with Tom, they all seemed silly and stupid and senseless in the scheme of things.

As a matter of fact, so did everything else in her Godforsaken life.

Except Tom.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Jeez, I didn't realize how dreadfully short this was until I read it over myself. I hope everyone enjoyed, and please review-no flames!:) I really upped the sophistication level of both Tom and Hermione-particularly Tom-'s speech. I wanted to show the evil side of this Slytherin gang, since with Hermione we only ever see the nice-well, as nice as Pureblood aristocrats-can be.**

**I'm guessing some of you are like-why are there first year Death Eaters? X0 I thought that coming into the house of Slytheirn in their first year, the older students would immediatley fill the firsties in on how things were run, and they'd wanna jump right on the bandwagon anyway, cause they already hate Muggleborns.**

**I'll update as soon as I can!**

**Love you all!**

**xoxo**


	7. One Step Closer

**A/N: Heyy everyone, I'm really proud of myself for updating like twice in one month hahaXD I'm not sure about this chapter, cuz I wrote it at two in the morning when I was dead tired, so I might come back and edit it later, but I REALLY wanted to update, so I hope you all like it. **

**By the way, in this next part(in case you all don't figure it out:)]:**

_Italics=Hermione or Hermione's conscience_

**Bold= Astrid Duerre, Hermione's past mother**

_Italicized Underline= Gaston Duerre, Hermione's past father_

**_Italized Bold=Tom _**

**I hope you guys like!:)**

**Disclaimer: Jo owns!:)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven:<p>

One Step Closer

_I have died every day, waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_~Christina Perri; A Thousand Years_

Hermione winced as she felt a sharp tug behind her navel, almost as if she were apparating, and she felt herself spiraling not downwards, but _upwards._ She was falling, falling, falling. The world was upside down, and she was drowning in the bottomless pit that was the sky, the endless space, the vast nothingness beyond the clouds.

_I am Alice, and when I stop falling, I'll be in Wonderland. _

Falling, falling, falling. She had to be out past Pluto by now. She wondered if she peered hard enough into the darkness if she could see the sun, and its skin of fire.

**Don't look directly at the sun, Hermione, you'll go blind.**

_But, mum, it's so bright and beautiful!_

_Listen to your mother, Mionette._

_Yes, father._

Falling, falling, falling. If she fell far enough, would she fall straight into Heaven? Would she see the golden gates of Paradise, perhaps a horse-drawn chariot would whisk her from the air and carry her off to safety.

_You're in no danger, _her mind reasoned. _There's nothing to fear of falling. _

_I dreamt a nightmare last night. I was tumbling down a hole, like Alice in the fairytale, mama. Only there were no pianos and books and magic in my dream, mama. It was dark and deep and endless and I was frightened._

**Pinch yourself and you'll wake up love. That's the wonderful thing about dreaming. You're in an entirely different world, unfamiliar and alien to you, and if you don't like it, just—pinch—and you're awake, quick as a whip. **

Falling, falling, falling. She wondered if, in her Wonderland, the rabbit would carry a pocket watch. Or perhaps he'd have a _compass_, or an hourglass. _I'll have to remember to tell him that I like cream in my tea. _Hermione told herself. _And ask the hatter to make Dobby a really nice top hat._

_Dobby. _

_I am not Alice, and this is not Wonderland. Use the logic that you have always prided yourself in and get yourself together. _

_**That's my little mouse. **_

Hermione drew a sharp breath. The falling sensation was gone, but her head was still spinning and she felt nauseous as she tried to sit up. She tried to open her eyes, but the light on the other side of her eyelids seemed to burn away at her pupils, setting fire to her body.

"Walburga, draw the curtains!" She ordered snappishly, lifting her arm in front of her face. "It's too early to be fussing over your hair!"

Hermione vaguely heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, while another person remarked, "Did she just say Walburga? As in _great-aunt _Walburga?"

Hermione eyes snapped open, wondering what on earth a _male _was doing in the girls' dormitories. She peered at her surrounding and tried to fight down the panic that erupted in her stomach as she realized she had no idea where she was.

"What—what's going on! Where am I? What—" Hermione started to hyperventilate and a large, dark-skinned man leapt forward to restrain her. She struggled against him, but only calmed when she realized there was something _extremely _familiar about him. As a matter of fact, there was something extremely familiar about _most _of them. "You—please—please—"

"Granger, _calm down_." Hermione blinked, her eyes falling on the blonde boy who had spoken. He had a pale, pointed face and cold, grey eyes. Eyes that looked eerily familiar.

_Druella's eyes_.

Draco.

"Oh."

Hermione's body went completely limp as she remembered exactly _what _she was doing here. Rodolphus gently released her, smiling uneasily at her, his amber eyes glinting with worry.

_Myles._

"I'm sorry," Hermione said immediately. "I had forgotten—" She stopped, frowning. That had been _so strange_. She woke up, terrified and lost, under the impression that _she was Hermione Duerre_.

Wasn't she?

"Minor side-effect." Hermione glanced briefly at Bellatrix, her dark curls cascading down her back, deep brown eyes watching her eagerly.

_Cygnus_.

"How do you feel, Miss Gra—Hermione?" She heard him stumble and change his mind. She didn't blame him. How strange it would feel, being referred to as Hermione Granger, when she had just spent fifteen years as Hermione Duerre.

"I think—" she said slowly, still noting that her stomach felt like a hurricane was evolving by the tenfold inside of it. "I think I need water."

A glass of water was immediately shoved into her hand and she gulped it down thirstily, the cool liquid soothing the burn in her throat. She set the glass down slowly, avoiding the eyes of the other inhabitants of the room. The silence was like ice, and sent a shiver trickling down Hermione's spine as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Finally, Voldemort spoke.

"You have nothing to say, Miss Grange—Hermione? No questions?"

She started to speak, and then hesitated. "There's so much to ask. I could hardly cover all of it….I…..Dumbledore! He was transfiguration teacher there! When did he become headmaster?"

For the first time, Hermione saw emotion in Lord Voldemort's expression. His face looked like a cross between annoyance and amusement. "Fifteen years spent in an alien era and the first question you ask is about _Dumbledore_?"

Hermione blushed, and then immediately cursed herself. Hermione Granger does not _blush_. She holds her head high, despite the situation. _Do not let him fool you_, she told herself. _This man is not Tom._

Tom.

If they hadn't all been watching her so closely, Hermione would have had a nervous breakdown there and there. Her mind was a whir wind of questions as she was suddenly unable to look at the snake-man in front of her.

Her Tom?

How embarrassing was this? This man, this leader of death eaters and all powerful dark lord, had seen her crying over her mother's death. He had insulted her and challenged her and ordered her about.

Oh, Merlin. He had _flirted _with her. They had bantered and argued and…and

_Oh, Merlin_.

It could only get worse, couldn't it? She saw it even then, when they were only fourteen. There was something underlying, something _there _underneath the strong alliance between she and Tom.

_Hermione Duerre and Tom_.

_**Tom and I**_**.**

Her mind was a mass of chaos and confusion. _So this is what they call an identity crisis_. Finally, Hermione's mind zeroed in on a semi-logical thought, and she addressed it before it could slip away.

"I'd like to know who the voice in the woods was." Bellatrix and Rodolphus looked confused, and Hermione realized that they didn't know everything that had happened.

"It happened on more than one occasion," Hermione said quickly. "Once, in the woods, and once again, at the sorting in our first year."

Voldemort's face was impassive as he contemplative this information. "It is….possible that while you were viewing your past, memories or slivers of conversation from your future, or locked away memories that you don't recall having access to were pushing through the boundaries of your mind."

But there was something more in his eyes that made Hermione sure that that wasn't all. "You know something else. There's something you aren't telling me."

"All in good time," he said vaguely. "Now, you must rest. You've got another five years tomorrow, and no doubt they will be the most….riveting." The corner of his mouth curled, and although his face was disgustingly distorted, although he was a mere shadow of the man she once knew, there was something so terribly familiar about the action that she looked away quickly, a blush staining her cheeks.

That night Hermione could hardly sleep. They had placed her into a room fairly close to the exit, and she was surprised at their faith that she would not attempt to escape, but when she considered it, she realized she couldn't possibly leave when she hadn't even finished the memories yet.

Hermione groaned, tossing and turning, her legs getting tangled up in the sheets as a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She let out a low moan of agony, obviously having a nightmare, but jerked awake when a warm hand touched her arm. She sat up, eyes dimly registering the outline of a person in the darkness.

"Alright, Granger?" Draco peered at her, his grey eyes enchanting in the dim light the moon cast over her room. "You were whining about in your sleep. Thought you were getting attacked by some animal."

Hermione laughed weakly, rubbing her eyes. Draco hesitated, and then held out a hand to her.

"Shall we go for a walk?"

* * *

><p>The dew on the grass was freezing against Hermione's bare feet, but she hardly noticed. Behind the Malfoy's manor, a beautiful orchard stretched farther than the eye could see, with rows upon rows of various trees, yellowing with the approach of fall and iced over in the early morning weather.<p>

"Reckon you're not used to cold mornings where you stay, yeah?" Draco said in attempt of conversation.

"No," Hermione replied, her arms crossed over her chest. "It's rather warm around this time of year. Although I've never been out at four in the morning, so…"

He chuckled. "I come out here every morning. Great place to think." He hoisted himself up onto a low tree branch, swinging his feet. "Reckon you can appreciate that, Granger?"

Hermione laughed lowly, leaning against the trunk of the tree. "I can. With best friends like Harry and Ron, I hardly get a moment of solitude. But I suppose I don't mind so much. They are such wonderful people."

Draco stared at her for a moment, a few strands of blonde hair falling into his face. Finally, he let out a sigh of frustration, gripping that branch tighter as his face became more intense. "Merlin, Granger, just…just _stay_ and _live_. So you've just found out you aren't Muggleborn. You've just discovered you were a ruddy _Slytherin_, for Salazar's sake! You aren't _really _going to back to those blundering idiots are you? We _both _know how this war is going to turn out Granger, and why would you _choose _to go back to the losing side, when you could just…_stay_? You're…..you're not half bad, for being…..well, for being who I've known for the past six years. Actually, you're quite tolerable when you keep that ruddy gob of yours shut and quite frankly….." He lowered his voice, jumping down from the tree and covering her mouth with his hand before she could protest. "Quite frankly…..I don't really want to see you dead."

Hermione gently pried his fingers away from her mouth, her gaze gentle, like mother would be to her son. "It's something…..you wouldn't understand. I can't abandon them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Fred, George, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ginny….Harry…..Ron…you wouldn't understand. It's…it's a Gryffindor thing." Her attempt to lighten the mood didn't sway him. His expression seemed to intensify as he read the look on her face.

"You love him," he stated simply. She did not need to ask which one of them he was referring to. Nor did she need to confirm his statement. He sighed, kicking at the dirt and uprooting a clump of grass. "Well I suppose I can't do anything about that. Funny thing, love." She could help but smile at his goofy grin. "Very well. I…I'm glad I got to know you, Granger."

"What'll they do to me, after this?"

"I believe they want to see how deep your devotion runs, even after seeing your entire past and who…..who you were. They want to see if….maybe, you'll embrace who your _were_, forget who you _are_, and abandon your cause."

Hermione smiled softly at him, disappointed that such a good person had such bad luck. Raised by Death Eaters, forced to become a Death Eater. She didn't see it getting any better for him, even though he didn't deserve it.

"Maybe in another lifetime."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I still think it was crappily short, but next chapter will cover her next sequence of past events, so we'll get right rollin! By the way, I tried to be very careful not to make Draco come off as romantically interested in Hermione. I wanted it to be a strictly platonic worry for her well-being, nothing more. **

**Review! No flames please!**

**Love you all! Till next time! :):):)**


	8. Red Thread

**A/N: Heyy everyone!**

**I'm really proud of myself for updating so frequently, and I hope everyone is really enjoying this story. :) I really love the reviews, and thanks to each and every one of you for reviewing:):):) It makes my day!**

**This chapter was originally going to be titled "Loving Hades" but I changed it to "Red Thread" because earlier to day I read something very interesting about an East-Asian cultural belief that the gods tie an invisible red string around the ankles of men and women who are destined to be soulmates. I really liked the idea and decided to change the title, specially since this chapter really focuses on...well, you'll see ;)**

**Enjoy!:):):)**

**Disclaimer: This wonderful world belongs to my idol, J.K Rowling:)**

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><p>Chapter Eight:<p>

Red Thread

_Who do you think you are?_

_Running round leaving scars_

_Collecting your jar of hearts_

_And tearing love apart_

_You're going to catch a cold_

_From the ice inside your soul_

_So don't come back for me_

_Who do you think you are?_

_~Christina Perri; Jar of Hearts_

It was late and Hermione sat alone, perched on the kitchen counter, thoughtfully chewing on a bagel. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco had gone out, and she had no idea where Bella, Rodolphus, Snape, or Voldemort were. In fact, they had been gone all day, and she had been stuck in the large, lonely house all by herself with nothing to do. Their plans to show her the rest of the memories had obviously been cancelled and she had spent most of the day in the Malfoy's massive library.

_**Reckon this'd be a bloody brilliant time to put snakes in their beds.**_

_Shove off, Duerre._

And now she had voices in her head.

Well, they weren't really voices so much as her annoying alter ego that could never cease to make her snide little comments or cunning little plans of sabotage and trickery.

_**Oh hush. You're just grouchy because you miss your Tommy.**_

_He's NOT Tommy. He's some freaky, snake version of my Tommy. I—I meant YOUR Tommy._

_**Suuure**_**.**

"I'm going to kill her," Hermione muttered, hopping off the counter and going to dig through the pantry for the fifth time. "I'm going to _murder _her."

"Only twelve hours and she's already gone round the bend." Hermione looked up to see Rodolphus, Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord himself striding into the room, the latter looking very smug.

"I wasn't _talking _to myself," Hermione spat, angrily biting a cracker in half. "I was referring to that evil little brat inside my head."

Rodolphus blinked dubiously at her before bursting into a fit of laughter. Bellatrix rolled her eyes, shoving past him to address Hermione. "Your personalities are conflicting. Now that you're aware of her, you're more in tune with her thoughts, and what she would do in certain situations."

"Great," Hermione grumbled under her breath. "Where _were _you all, by the way?"

"Worried?" Rodolphus teased, and Hermione hid her fleeting grin. "Out on business, little lassie. Nothing you need to concern your pretty little head about. Besides, we're in no rush. We'll do the memories tomorrow, or the next day."

"No rush?" Hermione said, her voice taking the shrill note that it did when she was agitated. "Hardly! I'm supposed to go stay with Harry and Ronald in two days, and I haven't even owled them back! We have to go to Diagon Alley, get our course books. Of course, I know N.E.W.T's are seventh year, but I hear preparation is dreadfully draining, and I'd want to have read ahead before even _beginning _to start my studies."

Bellatrix and Rodolphus shared an uneasy glance. "Uh, Miss Granger, you do know you probably won't be heading over to the Weasel's in two days, yeah?"

Hermione froze, suddenly feeling cautious as she took a step back. "What do you mean?"

"Think of how illogical it would be!" Bellatrix said reasonably. "Here, you've been here for two days, what if they were suspicious? For all they know, you could've turned spy! You could've been helping us capture Mudbloods."

Quite suddenly, the whole force of who she was speaking to hit her so fully that she collapsed into her chair, her stomach turning with a mixture of nausea and self-hatred. She straightened her back, jutting her chin out defiantly.

_**Who'd ya learn that from, I wonder?**_

"I do not wish to speak with you." Hermione said coldly, not looking at either Bellatrix or Rodolphus. The former looked affronted, and she stuck her nose in the air and stomped out of the room with a little "humph!" Rodolphus following behind quickly. Voldemort was studying her callously, his blood red eyes narrowed to a thinning point. "_Yes_?" she snapped after a moment.

Quicker than she could follow, Voldemort had drawn his wand and it was pressed into the skin from his wand onto the surface of her skin, leaving an uncomfortable tingly feeling. "Hermione Duerre quickly learned not to forget her place, and so shall you. Guest in this house you may be, but you respect and serve me, and me alone. Treat the others how you wish, but I am not to be trifled with."

And then his wand was gone and she was able to breathe again. She glared up at him, her ears ringing at the pulse of the electricity on her skin. "I am not that submissive little _rat_." She snarled. "And I will not be compared to her. You people are _monsters_, and the fact that I've spent two days in this house without trying to do in _every single one of you_ makes me _sick _with myself. I. Do _not_. Trust you."

He cocked his head, studying her, and an image of Tom doing the very same thing flashed to the forefront of her mind. "How different and alike you two are. Nature versus Nurture as they say."

Hermione scowled, but said nothing, brushing past him and retiring to her room, attempting to actually get a fitful night of sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Granger Gone Missing<em>

_By Rita Skeeter_

_After nearly two months of summer vacation, the Golden Boy and his faithful sidekick were eager to see their friend and the third member of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, again. But when they turned up at her house on August 18th, they were horrified to find her parents in similar states of petrification, and absolutely no sign of Granger._

_"It's terrifying," says one the faithful sidekick, Ron Weasley, 16. "I mean, 'Mione's a Muggleborn, and normally it wouldn't matter, but with You-Know-Who back, the chances of her being safe reallyslim."_

_The three teens have been good friends since their first year in Hogwarts, and it isn't just friends and family who are worried._

_"Hermione's really nice," says fellow Gryffindor, Demelza Robins, 14. "She helped me with my Herbology homework once."_

_"We're all dreadfully worried," says Terry Boot of Ravenclaw, 16. "But Granger's ruddy brilliant, and I think everyone knows that wherever she is, she'll think herself out of it, and she'll turn up alright."_

_"I reckon I have to have faith in Hermione." The Boy-Who-Lived himself seemed to be very emotional on the subject, stating that Granger is much like a sister to him. "She always proves us wrong when we think she can't do something. She's the smartest person I've ever met in my life, and I know that if she can, she will get herself out of whatever trouble she's in, and Ron and I will do all we can to help. She's come to our rescue more times than I can count, and I reckon we should return the favor. She's honestly the most wonderful person you could ever hope to know, and if something really bad has happened to her, I can't…..I can't….Either way, I'm not losing hope."_

_No word yet on whether or not healers have been able to cure the lost girl's parents-_

Hermione slammed her fist down on the table, flinging the newspaper clipping across the room. "You _have _to let me go back!" The inner-circle Death Eaters that were in the room that had been watching her as she read the clipping immediately started to protest, their convictions overlapping one another.

"That isn't an option, Hermione," Voldemort's voice rose above the others, who immediately silenced. "This _is _your destiny, now. You embrace it openly, or be forced to. There _is _no alternative."

"I don't _want _this!" Hermione declared. "I want to go back to Harry and Ron! They're _worried_! It's in the _Daily Prophet _for Merlin's sake!" Hermione ignored the twinge of curiosity in her mind when she thought about the rest of the memories and all of the questions that had yet to be answered.

"It isn't up for debate, Hermione." Voldemort's voice was cold now and a thick tension settled over the room. Hermione knew that if she were to argue again she would more likely than not get hurt.

"Why does it matter to you?" she asked honestly. "Why do you care if I know about this or not? It makes no difference to you." So he wanted her to be aware that she had been friends with his younger self? That she had been a Death Eater? A Knight of Walpurgis?

_That which does not kill you makes you stronger_.

Hermione blinked.

_Oh_.

_**Bingo, genius**_**. **

"Out," Voldemort told them as he saw the comprehension dawn on her face. When they hesitated to comply, he snapped, "_Out!_" Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Narcissa and Lucius immediately scrambled to their feet and hurried out of the room. The moment the door snapped shut behind them, Hermione exploded with questions.

"That's why you want me, isn't it? If I had stayed in the past, you would have succeeded the _first time _around! You wouldn't have made any of the mistakes you made! Trying to kill Harry! Failing to possess Quirrell, the diary in second year, you wouldn't have had to get your body back, you—you—" Hermione froze, horror replacing the elation of finally figuring it out. "If Dumbledore had never brought me into the future, I would've been your—"

"Dark Lady, essentially, yes," Lord Voldemort said, his lip curling at the irony. "He understood what my full potential would come to with someone as intelligent as you by my side, and he knew he had to cut off the connection."

"How did he know though? Even in the future he couldn't have _possibly _known that _I _was the reason for the strength."

Lord Voldemort froze, his gaze icing over as he glared at her with a look that chilled her to the bone. "Know now Miss Granger, that you were hardly the reason for my _strength_. My _strength_, as you called it, came from _within_."

"Really?" Hermione replied calmly with a very un-Hermione-ish smirk. "Then why did Dumbledore know exactly what to take away from you to make you weaker?"

He continued to seethe at her but said nothing, and when she continued to smirk at her , he hissed, but continued. "He searched and searched for an answer, while all the while, the world around him was being torn to shreds."

"Where was Harry?"

It was Voldemort's turn to smirk "Why, fighting with us, of course."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "_What_?"

"While I originally had planned to go into the Potter's home and murder their family, ensuring my complete control over the wizarding world, you suggested a better idea. You suggested that instead I kill the boy's parents, kidnap him, and raise him as my own heir."

Hermione's face turned stony with disgust. "I would never suggest such a thing."

"Ah, but you did," Voldemort said with amusement. "So, well Potter was fighting for our cause, Dumbledore searched and searched for some way to fix this mess, some way to save the wizarding world, and, alas, he found it."

"What?" Hermione asked, bewildered. "That's it? What do you mean 'he found it?' He can't have just 'found' it."

Voldemort observed her keenly. "Do you know what lies in the Department of Mysteries, Miss Granger?"

Hermione frowned. "A great deal of things lie in the Department of Mysteries. We came in contact with a great deal of them just a few months ago. None of which that I can think have anything to do with—"

She saw Voldemort watch her face eagerly as it dawned on her. Her mouth gaped to form a rather unattractive 'o' and she stared at him in disbelief. "No….it….it can't have been. But, yes…that really is the only plausible idea, isn't' it?" He waited for her to continue. "There was a…..prophecy, wasn't there? About….about me?"

"Cassandra Trelawney was a very strange old woman. Brilliant. Gifted. But very strange. She sensed your presence that day in the woods, all those years ago. She made the prophecy when her very eyes befell upon you."

_This one, so pure and untainted_

_To be corrupted by the touch of darkness_

_Cities will fall_

_Bridges will burn_

_At the hand of these_

_Only she with the power to tame him_

_Or to unleash him upon the world_

_To have and to hold_

_In sickness and in health_

_For all of their immortal lives_

…_It is your destiny. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, so I'm really sorry, cuz I said next chapter would get back to the memories, but I'm having a lot of fun with Hermione-Voldemort interaction, and I really wanted to end it here, because I really like this part:) The idea of the prophecy and Cassandra Trelawney just kinda smacked me in the face tonight, but I love it more than any idea I've ever had in my entire life:)**

**You'll learn more about the prophecy and such if you keep you reading:):):)**

**Please review! No flames! I love each and every one of you!:):):)**

**Thanks!**


	9. Flightless Bird

**a/n: Heyy guys! Hasn't been too long I hope! I think I'm definitely doing better with updating than I was way-back-when-haha!XD**

**Slight AU up ahead, but very, VERY slight. I had sooooo much fun writing this chapter, so I hope you all REALLY enjoy it!:)**

**Disclaimer: Jo owns:**

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine:<p>

Flightless Bird

Hermione drew the covers up to her chin as she sucked in another quick breath. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, and the bed was suddenly entirely too small. Each time she'd drift off to sleep, she'd reawaken again from the same nightmare, those dark woods, that eerie voice.

_It is your destiny_.

"I will now allow you to control my fate," Hermione whispered into the darkness, the promise in her words reverent with determination. Cassandra Trelawney may have been a celebrated seer, but Hermione had trouble putting faith into any fortune telling.

"After all, destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice." Hermione jumped as the silhouette of a figure immerged from the shadows, their looming presence intimidating. "William Jennings Bryan."

"I'd have thought you'd be against quoting Muggles," she sniffed at Lord Voldemort. He had conjured a chair and now sat beside her as though it were common as drinking water.

"I will be the first to admit that there are Muggles who have proven themselves not to be complete idiots."

"Then why take out an entire race?"

He studied her, the moonlight falling across his face in such a way that his ghastly features were illuminated. "There are intelligent Muggles in the world, yes, but intelligent Muggles go on to reproduce. There is not a one hundred percent certainty that their offspring will be intelligent as well."

"Look at Purebloods like Crabbe and Goyle!" Hermione burst, either forgetting or not caring that everyone else in the manor was trying to sleep. "They're the biggest dolts I've ever met."

"But they carry the Pureblood gene," Voldemort countered. "And that is all that is important."

Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest and pointedly looking in the opposite direction. "I will not discuss this with you."

"No matter," Voldemort waved off her dismissive behavior. "Tomorrow we will show you the rest of the memories."

"I don't want to see them! I'm _going _back to Harry and Ron!"

Something between a hiss and a chuckle crossed his lips. "And _I _will not discuss _this _with _you_. We have already established that you are going to watch the rest of the memories."

"I won't!"

He cocked his head sideways, watching her with an unwavering, unblinking gaze. The silence in the room was deafening, and Hermione felt her terror mounting, with his blood red glaze locked on her face. Finally he spoke, his voice strangely soft. "I wonder…..if you are afraid."

Hermione tilted her chin defiantly. "What have I to fear?"

He smiled coldly. "I wonder if you fear watching the memories, because you know you'll grow more and more attached to the person—or people—that lie within them."

Hermione gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing several times before she was able to form words. "How—how dare you? I don't care about them. I don't care about _him_—if that's what you're implying!"

He smirked at her so suddenly that it caught her off guard. "Defensive, aren't we?"

"I. Don't. Care. About. _Him_ He's a _monster_. _You're _a monster."

He rose to his feet, drawing his wand and pointing it at her. Hermione drew back immediately, opening her mouth to scream, but his spell hit her before her panic truly set it. She knew what it was the moment she felt it.

_Don't I have to comply mentally for it to work?_

_**Maybe you aren't as unwilling as you'd like to think.**_

**Quiet! Do you **_**want **_**them to catch us? **

_Stop worrying so much!_

**Well, **_**you **_**don't have a Prefect title to keep up!**

_Relax, Tom._

He didn't seem to be listening to her as he stuck his head round the corner, so she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back to her. "_Relax_, Tom," she repeated, flicking him on the tip of the nose reassuringly.

"Sorry," he grumbled after a moment. "I'm just a bit…..well…..unsettled. "

"Shh! He's coming!"

Professor Slughorn stumbled into the Entrance Hall, looking quite inebriated. He stopped short when he saw Tom and Hermione's cupcake, floating in the very center of the hall, iced to perfection. They watched as he frowned at it, and then waddled toward it, reaching out a hand to take it, when it floated out of his reach.

Slughorn stopped short again, his face taking on a determined expression, before he waddled off after it again. Each time his small, pudgy hand almost closed on it, it danced out of his reach. He had followed it in circles nearly eleven times when Hermione heard him curse aloud; draw his wand and shout, "Accio cupcake!"

The effect was immediate. A loud _boom_ rattled the entrance hall and a puff of smoke blocked their view. When the smoke cleared, it revealed a very annoyed Slughorn, clad only in a pair of bright pink and purple polka dot underwear and a frilly, laced undershirt. Slughorn let out a "gah!" of embarrassment and raced down the steps towards the dungeons, but not before half the Hogwarts population, who were immerging from the Great Hall for dinner, saw him.

Hermione and Tom were hidden in the shadows, both having burst into a fit of laughter. Tom was leaning up against the wall for support, holding his stomach as tears leaked from his eyes. Hermione was clutching his arm, doubled over, practically choking.

"Her—Her—Hermione I think we should go—go—go—"

"I ag—ag—agree! We should g-g-go there right aw—away!"

They stumbled over each other to the common room, where the other Slytherins were staring at them in bewilderment. It was very rare that Tom Riddle was ever seen showing any kind of emotion, let alone amusement.

"I reckon I told you a thousand times that you ought to have more fun once in a while," Hermione said when she was comfortably seated on Abraxas' ill-made bed.

"Yes, well, I can hardly afford to indulge in such idle fancies," Tom said in his "I'm-quoting-a-stuffy-Pureblood-supremacist" voice. Hermione giggled, but stopped when she saw Tom's long finger glide over the edge of a thick book.

"What's that?" He hesitated, but before he could answer, she slid the book out of his grasp and peered at the faded writing. "An Etymology of Wizardry." She glared at him through a few strands of fallen hair. "You aren't fretting over your heritage again, are you Tom?" He shrugged, but Hermione recognized the look in his eye. "Oh come _on, _Tom, not this again! Shouldn't you be focusing more on O.W.L's and less on…..whatever point you're trying to prove?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "It's not a point I'm trying to prove. And if you suddenly think that you can order me around, then you can leave."

Hermione frowned, but stood gracefully, tilted her head back in defiance, and glided out of the room, missing Tom's heavy frown.

"Oh, did he kick you out of his fortress?" Walburga cooed when Hermione immerged at the top of the stairs. Hermione scowled, but after a moment, her anger abated, and was replaced with worry.

"I think Tom's up to something."

"When is Tom not up to something?" Abraxas said reasonably. "Don't worry about him, Mi. Tom can take care of himself."

Hermione nodded briefly, and though she knew Abraxas was right, she couldn't help but worry that something was very, _very _wrong.

* * *

><p>Hermione pushed her way through the throng of people at the base of the grand staircase, wincing as another piercing scream broke through the air. "Move!" She commanded. "Move <em>now! <em>I'm a prefect, now _move!_"

The crowd dispersed, and Hermione let out a gasp. At the base of the staircase was Waywell Samson. His body looked like it had been carved out of stone. His eyes were glassy, and his face was arranged in an expression of terror. His large, thick glasses had slipped down to sit on the ridge of his nose.

"Get Headmaster Dippet," Hermione commanded a nearby first year. "How did this happen?" she barked at a group of Hufflepuffs that the 3 _Hssssssssssss_

Hermione nearly tripped as her feet abruptly came to a stop, her breath catching in her throat. Was she hearing things?

_Do not fear me, little heiressssssss_

Definitely hearing things.

Hermione shook her head blearily, walking just a bit faster to the common room, letting out a sigh of relief when the portrait closed behind her. She hurried up to her dorm and buried herself beneath her sheets, wanting nothing more than to escape the voices in her head.

_**Sssssssleeep well, little moussssse**_

* * *

><p>Hermioen felt her cheeks burn as she saw all eyes turn in her direction upon entering the Potions classroom nearly fifteen minutes late.<p>

"Decided to join us, have you, Miss Duerre?"

"Sorry, Professor," she amended, looking politely ashamed. "I overslept."

"Not a problem at all, Miss Duerre," Professor Slughorn said as she took her seat next to Tom, throwing her a sly wink. "All top students deserve to have a slip up once in a while. We're still all waiting for Tom's."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't count on it, Professor," Tom said charmingly, a modest smile on his lips. Slughorn chuckled, and Hermione grimaced at the admiring looks all of the students gave him.

"You disgust me," Hermione said out of the corner of her mouth. She didn't miss his low, dark chuckle.

Hermione's mind was far away during Professor Slughorn's lecture. She was mentally shifting through each section of the library, wondering what she could have possibly missed. She had even wandered into the dark arts section, though her skin had crawled at some of books' contents.

A wry smiled curled around Hermione's lips. It was ironic, really, how her best friend was neck-deep in the dark arts, and yet she couldn't even look at a book without having to hurl.

"What's so funny?" Tom whispered, already smiling with her.

"Just thinking about my choice of company," she mused.

"Regretting it?"

"Every day of my life."

He chuckled again, and Hermione wondered what had him in such an agreeable mood. They had spoken the day after their arguement; no apologies, of course, just a quiet discussion about a Transfiguration project, and everything had been fine after that. She didn't see what could have him suddenly grinning next to her for no apparent reason.

Wednesday's evening was spent just as the one before. She was in the library even later tonight, scouring the shelves in search of something, _anything, _that would give her a clue as to what this was. Once again, she came up empty-handed, and was more frustrated then ever.

She took her time on her way back to the common room this time, her mind whirring with confusion and questions. Not noticing where her feet were taking her, she accidentally turned down the wrong corridor. After a moment of surprise, she realized that she was on the first floor.

She started to turn around, and then froze, drawing her wand.

_Come to me_

Her eyes flickered around the empty corridor, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Maybe it hadn't been her imagination. Maybe...

_Come to me, my pet_

She slowly started to walk in the opposite direction from the grand staircase, her footsteps sounding like cannons in her ears.

_Come to me, yessssss, yesssss_

Hermione quickened her step as the voice seemed to get louder and louder. She saw a door at the end of the corridor, and before she knew it, she was running.

_Coooommme to meeeeeee_

Her breathing was erratic as a thousand scenarios ran through her mind, each as unlikely, but frightening as the next.

_Kill, kill, KILL_

"It's going to kill," she breathed to herself. "It's going to-"

She burst through the door at the end of the corridor, and stifled a gasp. On the floor was the stone-figure of fourth-year Melanie Croamer. Her pale face was ashen, her mouth opened in an wide 'o', her body facing the room's only window.

Hermione knelt by the girl's side, touching the cold skin of her arm and then drawing back quickly with a gasp. She looked around the room, but saw nothing. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she quickly spun around, her wand drawn.

Tom stared down at her coldly, his face impassive as his eyes flickered, unimpressed, between her wand and her face.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked, her voice coming out more suspiciously than intended. He arched a dark eyebrow.

"Looking for you. Walburga mentioned that you weren't back from the library yet, and asked me to find you." He glanced around her, his impassive expression unfaltering as he saw the girl motionless on the floor. "Foul play, Duerre?"

"I found her," Hermione said quickly, guiltily. He scrutinized her callously, his dark eyes boring into her own in the way that made her feel like he was reading her mind.

"Stop with the Legilimency, Tom," she snarled. "I don't want you in my head."

He raised his eyebrows further, and Hermione felt a cold shiver trickle down her back as he leaned closer and said in slightly menacing voice, "You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide."

Hermione drew a shallow breath, and he leaned away from her, spinning on his heel and marching out of the room. "I suppose we should report this to Professor Dippet." She followed after him, numb with fear.

It wasn't _whatever _was attacking that students that had her frightened. It wasn't the voices that she kept hearing in her head. And it wasn't worry over her own safety, and the safety of her friends.

It was the conjecture she saw in Tom Riddle's eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>an: Sorry bout the shortness (was it short? it seemed short to me:):):)) So I hope you all really liked it.**

**The AU was: According to J.K Rowling, looking thru glasses at a Basilisk will still kill you, cause you're looking directly at it, but I couldn't think of a legitimate reason as to why a puddle would be outside the great hall, or why a boy would be carrying a mirror, so I went for the AU approach. Hope you don't mind!:)**

**Review! No Flames please! :)**

**All my love!**

**xoxo**


	10. Honey, I Love You

**a/n: Heyy guys! I toldya I'd do another one! :):):) Okay, so I really like this chapter, but I'm reeeaaaaaaalllllly nervous, so I'm changing the rating to 'M'...just in case!:)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's Prop. :)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten:<p>

Honey, I Love You

The next few weeks Hermione found herself in a dubious routine of eat, sleep, class, research. She found that all of her free time was spent in the library. She hadn't said more than two words to Walburga in several days, and she hardly saw Myles or Abraxas anymore. She could tell that they were annoyed with her, but she couldn't just drop the subject either. She felt like the was on the verge of something, and it was just slipping around her.

It was the first meal that Hermione had come to in five days. None of the Slytherins failed to notice her appearance: the frizzy volume of her hair, the bags beneath her eyes. As she sat down between Walburga and Abraxas, she felt a wave of tiredness pass over her, and she dropped her head into the crook of her arm.

"You could always just stop," Walburga said. Hermione heard a slightly snooty tone in her voice that she used whenever talking to anyone who she considered inferior to herself, and she realized that Walburga was offending by Hermione's neglect of their friendship.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know I've been a jerk lately, I just...you know there's nothing I hate more than not knowing something."

Walburga smiled, her eyes softening with forgiveness as she laid a comforting hand of Hermione's back. "I know that. But I also know that you can't fight this...this...whatever it is...on your own."

Hermione was about to respond, when Myles cut in, speaking around a mouthful of food. "Personally, I don't see why you _are _trying to fight it." She heard the malice in his tone, and frowned. "Haven't you noticed-it's only targeting Mudbloods."

That point could not be denied. Two days ago, two more students had been found in an identical condition to Melanie and Waywell: Travis Conway and Louis Deaves.

"Regardless," Hermione said, sniffing in disgust at Myles' devil-may-care attitude. "It's dangerous."

He gave her a sly grin and she mock-glared at him, pulling out a book and attempting to immerse herself in it.

"C'mon, Duerre, not at the table."

She smiled. "It's only _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_." She promised him ."Right now I'm kind of focused on relaxing. I haven't had a proper night of sleep in a while."

Attempting to tune the boys out as they rampbled on about Quidditch, Hermione buried her nose in the book.

_The Augurey has since enjoyed a vogue as a home weather forecaster, though many find its almost continual moaning during the winter months difficult to bear. Augurey feathers are useless as quills because they repel ink. _

Hermione let out a growl of annoyance as a few more Slytherin boys squeezed into the group, nearly knocking her book out of her hands. She began to remember why she avoided meals. Shaking her head, she tried to tune them out.

_Basilisk (also known as the King of Serpents)_

A wry grin found its way onto Hermione's lips at that. "King of Serpents." That reminded her all-too-well of someone she was all-too-familiar with.

_The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark wizard adn Parselmouth, who discovered after much experimentation that a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a giant serpent possessed of extraordinarily dangerous powers._

_ The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reachup to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is-_

Hermione jumped when what looked like an enchanted Beater's bat came whizzing over from the Gryffindor table, whacking several of the Slytherin's in the head. The Gryffindor's roared with laughter while Hermione scowled, ignoring Abraxas and Myles' roars of outrage.

_-Is the gaze of its largeyellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death._

Hermione closed the book as the Beater's bat noisily clonked her over the head and stood up from the table, hastily bidding her friend's goodbye before departing, shooting the Gryffindors scathing glances.

The library was near empty this evening, and Hermione had no trouble finding an empty table. She silently vowed that she wouldn't stay in here past midnight tonight, but as she began her research, the internally doubted whether or not she'd be able to stick to her oath.

She had been reading for so long that hardly any of the material was even registering anymore. She nearly missed the paragraph before she did a double take, her eyes widening on something that she could've missed, she had _nearly missed it! _

_Petrification is the process of being turned to stone. The only proven cause of Petrification is the gaze of the Basilisk, reflected or seen through another object._

Hermione was still for a moment, and then she let out a _whoop _of joy, momentarily forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be in here. She kissed the cover of the book, her eyes bright with happiness. She felt a surge of satisfaction sweep through her, such sweet gratification, all her work paid off-

She froze, horror replacing elation as she realized:

_What _was a _Basilisk _doing in the castle?

Her mind quickly swept through all the places where it could be hiding. If _Fantastic Beasts _was correct, Basilisks could grow to be at least fifty feet long, and she doubted it was hiding in an unused classroom or under an unsuspecting students bed. She continued to ponder the question until another fact popped into her head, pushing the other question right out of her mind.

Basilisks were only controlled by Parselmouths. And the last known Parselmouth was Herpo the Foul, who existed in the era of Ancient Greece. Which meant...

There was a Parselmouth at Hogwarts. And they were controlling the Basilisk. To kill Muggleborns.

Hermione felt the surface of her skin tingle with numb realization.

It couldn't be.

She rose from her chair quickly, moving towards the Slytherin common room faster than she ever had before. She hardly registered that she back earlier than normal, and didn't acknowledge Lucretia, Walburga, Abraxas, Myles, and Ignatius, who were all seated around the fire. They watched, bewildered, as she stormed past.

She lay in bed that night, her eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling above her, mind whirring with a thousand questions.

_Why, Tom, why?_

* * *

><p>The class was rowdy that morning in Transfiguation, as Professor Dumbledore was nearly ten minutes late. The Gryffindors were tossing what looked like a ball of goo between themselves, breaking out into raucous fits of laughter.<p>

"And I told her, I did, I said, 'those shoes _so _don't match that dress', and I was just giving her honest criticism, you know, and she started _sobbing_, I mean honestly, the bint seemed to have an emotional complex or something, and-I say, Hermione, are you listening?"

"Mmhmm," Hermione muttered noncommittally. "Emotional complex, gotcha."

"Hermione!" Walburga wailed, drawing the attention of several of the Slytherin boys. "You aren't even listening!"

"Walburga?" Hermione felt a sharp stab of pain at the sound of his voice, so casual and complacent. "Switch me seats, will you? Just so I can reprimand Hermione on how valuable of a friend you are, and how she should treat you better."

The younger girl smiled flirtatiously. "Course, Tom!"

She felt him slide in to the seat next to her, felt his hand brush her thigh, but she did not look at him.

"What's bothering, little mouse?"

_**Sleep well, little mouse**_

Hermione cringed away from him, recalling many nights before, the hissing in the walls, and his frown deepened. She peered at him from the corner of her eye

_Cunning, Hermione, cunning. If he knows you're suspcious, he'll send it after you next. _

She wasn't entirely sure if this was true or not, but she knew it wouldn't be wise of her to appear completely distrustful of him, especially not when he had all his little lap-dogs sitting right behind them.

She sighed, bending her head forward and imitating a defeated expression. "I'm sorry, Tom. I'm just so stressed. Deaves was my friend."

It wasn't true, not even close. She had helped the 2nd year revise for a final once, but that was it, and they hadn't even talked much during the revision. But it was the best excuse that Hermione could think of, and after a moment of studying her, she saw that Tom bought it.

"...Hermione," he started in a relunctant voice, and Hermione knew what he was going to say.

**Don't be friends with Mudbloods. They're nothing but trouble. Didn't your mother and father teach you that they only dirty our world with their presence. **

But Hermione didn't really want to hear it at the moment, so she turned to face the front, and after another, more troubled frown, he did the same.

A few moments later, Dumbledore entered, the normally-present sparkle absent from his eyes. In fact, he looked more serious than Hermione had ever seen him. "Sorry I'm late," He said loudly, and the chatter immediately died. "Another student, has just been attacked.

Hermione tried to resist from turning to look blatantly at Tom. In broad daylight? Was he that daft? Or did he have that much control over the beast that he didn't have to worry about being caught?"

Titters had broken out at Dumbledore's words but he silenced them with a raise of his hands. "I know we're all very concerned for the students that have been attacked, but Madam Bonham and Professor Sprout are doing everything they can to find a cure." He was looking directly at a Gryffindor girl, who sat in the back, and Hermione realized it was Emmeline Deaves, Louis' older sister. The girl's eyes were red, as if she 'd been crying a lot recently, and she nodded at Dumbledore's words, her lower lip trembling. Hermione felt her stomach flip in revulsion as she snuck another peek at Tom.

"Now today's lesson..." She couldn't wait any longer. "Is having to do with the properties of objects that make them-" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, seeing Hermione's trembling hand in the air. "Miss Duerre? A question?"

"Yes, sir. Forgive me...I was...well I was only wondering, sir, if you could tell us about...the Chamber of Secrets."

Several heads turned to look around at her, and her cheeks flushed.

_Oh, this is exactly why I tried to sit next to Walburga_! Hermione thought, cursing mentally as she felt Tom's curious gaze on her face. Dumbledore, too, looked faintly surprised.

"Well, as the Chamber of Secrets is a subject of historical fact, I think it would be best that you take your question to Professor Binns-"

"Please, sir," Hermione said quietly. Dumbledore's piercing eyes bored into her face, and she stared right back at him, open honestly clear in her brown eyes.

He sighed. "Very well. Well, you all know how the Hogwarts was founded years and years ago by the four greated witches and wizards of their age. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. For a while, the four of them lived in harmony, seeking out magically inclined students and bringing them to the castle to teach them. But after a while, one of them developed very...different views."

"Three guesses who," said Jack Weasley from across the classroom, and several Slytherins glared at him. Hermione ignored him, her eyes on Dumbledore, enraptured by the story.

"Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about which students should be aloud to learn magic. He believed that only children from magical families should be aloud to learn magic."

"Purebloods," Abraxas said loudly, inclining his head haughtily at the Gryffindors.

"Well, eventually, the disagreement got a breaching point. Slytherin left the castle, but, according to legend, built and sealed a chamber that could only be opened when his true heir returned to Hogwarts. Legend says that when the heir returned, they would be able to open the chamber, and release the horror within, to purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin's view, were unworthy to study magic."

"Muggleborns," said Hermione hesitantly, wincing slightly. Dumbledore nodded at her.

"Naturally, the school has been searched time and time again. No such chamber has been found."

Dumbledore started to turn away, as if to close the subject. "Professor!" Hermione called. "If...if the heir were to _have _returned to Hogwarts, what 'horror' exactly would they be releasing on Muggleborns."

The Professor hesitated, looking torn between telling them something that they needed to know, but probably didn't want to know. "The Chamber..." he said slowly. "Is said to be the home...of a monster."

Hermione watched him eagerly, her eyes bright with fascination. So that answered her questions. Most of them, anyway. There were still a few untied strings, but...

She glanced over at Tom, and found that his calculating gaze rested on her. When she met his eyes, he raised a single eyebrow as if to say, "What was that about?"

Forgetting herself, the side of Hermione's mouth turned up in a patronizing smirk, and a glimmer of alarm flashed through his eyes.

_Your mine, hotshot_

No more was said about the Chamber in Dumbledore's class, but as lunch approached, she heard more and more voices whispering things. The gossip level of Hogwarts was higher than it had ever been before. People were starting to understand what Hermione had long since discovered. Someone was behind these attacks.

She tried not to let her mind get too occupied by her discoveries. She realized she was becoming overwhelmed with the mystery, adn she didn't want it to interfere with her O.W.L scores. For once, she was actually in the library to revise. She was just opening her Potions book when she heard her name.

"-Duerre's seen it. Multiple times."

Hermione frowned, cocking her head. Normally, she wouldn't care what people were saying about her. She'd heard too much about she and Tom Riddle and she and her know-it-all-ness and she and her Mudblood-lover-ness to be affected by anything anyone said anymore. But this time...

She casually rose from her seat, skimming the bookcase, ears tweaked to the conversation going on just on the other side of it.

"I think you're wrong, Smith. Hermione's very nice. She helped me revise, one time. She'd never want to hurt anyone." Hermione recognized the voice of Oliver Abbott, loyally defending her, and she smiled.

"But think about how suspicious she seems." The smile slipped off her face at the sound of Leviticus Smith's voice. Despite being a Hufflepuff, he was one of the most unpleasant people she'd ever known. "I mean, she was around both time when the first two bodies were found, and then she goes asking questions in Transfiguation. Weasley said she kept asking about the monster in there. _I _reckon she was trying to push the suspicion off her. In my opinion, it just makes her _more _suspicious.

Hermione's expression grew wary. So Jack Weasley was turning on her too? Despite the hatred between their housemates, the two of them had always gotten along rather well. But apparently, no one could be trusted.

As she left the library, the whispers became more apparent, and she wondered how she hadn't noticed them before.

"_Yeah, I hear Hermione Duerre-"_

_ "-And I thought she was _so _nice!"_

_ "-Her pretty little good-girl act couldn't fool anyone for long, when she started setting monsters on Muggleborns_."

Nearly every eye was on her as she stormed into the Great Hall, slamming her books on the table and plopping angrily down in between Druella and Ignatius. After a moment, she snapped at her friends, who were all warily watching her face, "Well I'm not going to set a bloody monster on you if that's what you're waiting for!"

The six of them burst into laughter, none of them looking suspicious or untrustworthy. "Oooh, careful, Myles, don't get her too riled up! She might open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash her foul beast upon us!"

"It's not _funny!_" Hermione gasped, mortified at how casually they were taking this.

"Yes it _is_," Abraxas insisted, suddenly mellowing the table. "Because regardless of what the rest of the idiots at the school think, _we _know that you wouldn't hurt a fly, and isn't that all that really matters." He reached over the table and gently grasped her hand, giving her a reasurring smile. She smiled a watery smile in return, feeling a lurch of horror as a few teardrops leaked from the corners of her eyes.

"And even if you _were _the heir of Slytherin," Abraxas continued, letting go of her hand. "We wouldn't be shunning you, we'd-" he lowered his voice, glancing around them. "We'd be cheering you on, for what we've all been wanting to do for ages."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Trust Abraxas to ruin a sentimental mood. "But it truly _isn't funny_. This is _murder _we're talking about, boys. Not playground stuff. I can undestand that you guys don't think Muggleborns should learn magic, but do you really want all of them _dead_?"

Myles started to answer, but at her warning gaze he silenced, looking down at the table shamefacedly. She met Tom's eyes, and he inclined his head towards the door. She debated, and then nodded, rising and making her way out of the Great Hall. She realized he didn't follow immediatley, and she realized, waiting outside the Great Hall, that he had waited a good two and half minutes to leave. She felt a surge of fury erupt in her. Once they were in a private alcove, she rounded on him, her eyes dancing with anger.

"Even the _wonderful _Tom Riddle doesn't want to be seen with the _murderer_, huh?"

He blinked, seemingly surprised by her outburst. But then he composed himself, looking down on her coldly. "I _do _have an image to keep up, you know. Just because _you _can't get into trouble without seeming suspicious doesn't mean _I _have to tarnish my good reputation with your bad one."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How-how _dare _you? You self-absorbed _prat! God! _To Hell with your reputation, what about _friendship_?"

Tom laughed a high, cold laugh that gave Hermione goosebumbs. "Disregarding _friendship_, dear Hermione, _I am your master_. The others might not see it that clearly yet but I know you're intelligent enough to put two and two together."

"I will not _serve _you," Hermione snarled. "_This_," she gestured between them. "Is _mutual_. What happened to the days when you used to stand up for me?"

He seemed to ignore her second question. "And what is _this,_" he imitated her and gestured between them. "_Exactly_?"

It was Hermione's turn to blink in shock. _What _kind of question was that? What _was _this? What were they? Before she had any more time to think it over, he was suddenly closer-extremely close. She felt his breath fan out over her face. He lifted a hand and gently-ever so gently-traced across her jaw like, his fingers like the touch of a ghost.

"_Friendship_, Hermione?" he murmured, and the felt the vibration of his words as he lifted her arm and placed it around his neck. "_Friendship_," It was more of a _purr _this time, accompanied by a dark chuckle, and she felt her stomach swoop at the sound. But no-this was all wrong.

"I know who you are," she breathed against his lips. He seemed to freeze. "I know what you've done."

"Are you going to tattle, Hermione," he teased, his body relaxing again. It annoyed her that he wasn't afraid of her threat. But she couldn't focus on that. Not with his hands sliding down her side to grip her hips, tracing circles at the bit of skin was revealed between the hem of her shirt and the waistline of her skirt.

"Mmmm," she mumbled. "I could. I am a Slytherin, after all. Self-preservation. I rat you out, and my name is out of the mud."

"Mmmm," Tom agreed, pressing her farther into the alcove. "But what would that do to our..._friendship_." Again, it was a purr that sent delicious tingles down to the base of her spine and back up again, making her shiver against him. He smiled coyly into the skin of her neck as he buried his face there.

"What friendship?" She said sharply. "You mean, the one where I _serve _you and you avoid me in public?" He started to object, but she raised a finger to his lips. "No, I _get _it. I'm not _stupid_. If you're seen with me much, people will think that you're helping me plot to attack Muggleborns, and that just too close on the mark, isn't it?"

Irritation flashed through his eyes, and Hermione felt a smithereen of satisfaction, before it disappeared just as quickly as it came, only to be replaced by that predatorial look once again. "Well," he said slowly, moving too close again. "We could always...compromise."

Hermione felt like a sleazy cow as she asked, "What do you have in mind?"

His eyes raked down her body, and something about the expression on his face was more than just self-satisfied, more than just greedy. "Tell you what..._I _get this _nastly _little rumor out of the rumor mill-that is, take _all _suspicion off of you..." Hermione watched him curiously.

"I'm listening, and...?"

"_And," _he continued dramatically. "_I _get..." His hand brushed along her inner thigh and she sucked in a shallow breath. "What _I _want."

Part of Hermione was offended, and wanted to confront him on how utterly _manish _he was being, but another part of her was _strongly _enjoying his ministrations.

"_Think about it_," he hissed, and with another brush along her jaw line, he was gone.

She didn't know how he'd done it, but not three days later, people had stopped giving her looks as if they expected her to kill them at any second, and the whispers had dimmed down to a few vague comments that implied everything and nothing.

Hermione felt an unresolved fear of what this meant now. He had kept his part of the bargain, and now it was her turn to keep hers.

Maybe...maybe he hadn't meant it that way. Maybe she had imagined his smoldering gazes and steamy touches. Maybe all he wanted was...a back rub? Why not? Dark Lords could get tense, too.

But Hermione felt her hope dwindling away as she drew closer and closer to the boy's dormitory, and her fear surmounted to a riveting level. She was not one that backed out of a challenge easily, but there was a part of her moral compass that was screaming against this, a part of her that was begging her to turn around.

But it was just Tom. And she knew that even if he set a Basilisk on the entire Hufflepuff house, tonight, he would not hurt her.

The door opened with a creak and Tom glanced up, curiously peering at her.

"The boys are out," he told her casually, not seeming to sense anything amiss. "They went to go get a few drinks at the Hogs Head."

"I-I know." She said. He must've heard it in her voice that time, because he looked up sharply, studying her more callously now. "I-I figure a compromise...involved..._two _people keeping up their end of the bargain." When he met her eyes, she tried her best not look fearful, tried to look as brave as she could, but her bottom lip gave her away when it gave a violent tremble.

"Come here." His words were gentle. There was nothing sensual or seductive about them. It was just Tom.

She slowly walked towards him, her bare feet padding quietly across the stone floor. She climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside him as he peered at her, and for the first time, his eyes were swirling with emotion, but Hermione couldn't pin down any one of them.

He swiftly pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She felt the pounding of his heart, steady and strong, a her fear started to subside, just a little.

Tom put a hand on her neck, the pad of his thumb sweeping across the side of her face. He tilted her head upwards so that she was forced to look at him. When he saw nervousness still swimming in her eyes, he said in a gentler voice than Hermione had ever heard, "Hey, it's just me. I'm the only person in the _world_ that you don't have to fear."

And she was scared because it was true.

And then, she was his. She lost herself in the movements of touches and passion and heat and _all _she could feel was Tom, and when it was over, as she felt his smile against her cheek, she knew that she was his indefinitely.

And she was scared because she _wasn't _scared that it was true.

* * *

><p><strong>an: EEEK! Super nervous! Never done a sexual scene before! Hope it wasn't terrible hahaXD In case ya'll didn't notice, a lot of the Chamber of Secrets legend story was borrowed from J.K Rowling's, so, again, all credit goes to her for that:)**

**I really hope you guys enjoyed it!**

**Review! No Flames!:)**

**Lots and Lots of Love!**

**XOXO**


	11. Bare My Soul

**a/n: Heyy guys! Another update! I hope you guys really really really are enjoying this, and the reviews are kick butt, so thank you so much!:)**

**So, to anyone who reads these little author notes, I just have a question: What is a Beta? I've been hearing that word around with various authors on ff and I'm wondering if I need one, lol:) Thanks if ya know!:)**

**Tom might get a teensy weensy bit OOC here, just a warning:)**

**Disclaimer: Prop. of Joanne Rowling:)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven:<p>

Bare My Soul

Hermione felt a disturbing sense of security wash over her as Tom's hand gently stroked her hair, holding her tightly against his bare chest. Her mind kept coming up with logical reason that this was wrong-she had gone to the alcove in the first place to _confront _him, not to strike up a deal with him, he was (possibly) a murderer, he knew more dark magic than Grindelwald _himself_, not to mention he was Tommy, _her _Tommy, her best friend since...

She sighed, resolving that, if she really thought about it, could she honestly say she was surprised? Everyone else saw it coming. She was the only one that was oblivious, and if she was honest with herself, she wasn't that oblivious at all.

Apparently Tom's thoughts were along the same lines as hers. "Do you remember back in fourth year," he mused. "The name they used to call you."

Hermione snorted. "Which one? There was, 'Our Lord's Mistress', and then there was 'The Snake Charmer' and then of course, Lady Riddle-"

"But you can't forget my favorite," he said. "Naturally, it was the one you hated the most. 'His Dark Lady'. Do you remember it?"

"Ugh, how could I forget?" Hermione groaned. "They'd call me it in class sometimes, too! The idiots!"

Tom chuckled. "I always went over the moon whenever they called you that. _His _Dark Lady." He smiled, possessively molding her to himself, tucking her head under his chin-not that she minded. "_Mine_."

Hermione frowned, not liking the tone of his voice. "Why do you want me, Tom?"

"You're the most powerful witch I've ever met," he responded immediatly. "You and I together-we're invincible, like I've been telling you from second year on-invincible."

She felt her heart crumble a little at that. It was always power with him-the _need _to be the very best he could be. "So it has nothing to do with me?"

He sat up, raking a hand through his hair, and she slid backwards so that she was sitting criss-cross on his lap. His dark eyes studied her in that perturbing way that she didn't like but she didn't hate either.

"I'm not going to tell you I love you," he said finally. "And I know you're smart enough not to expect me to."

"I am," Hermione agreed, unsurprised.

"But I will admit that I am...unsettled...when I'm not with you. You're...you're one of kind, Duerre."

He seemed to actually struggle saying the words, and Hermione hid her smile in his shoulder. She knew that was the best she was going to get from him, but coming from Tom, that was practically as good as 'I Love You.'

He leaned back against the headboard. "And you, my little mouse?"

She pursed her lips, seeing the triumph in his eyes, as if he knew what her answer would be. She wanted to be honest, to say that he confused her to know end, but then-

_Be a Slytherin, him out of suspicion._

"I love you," she answered, trying to sound as honest as possible. A sinister smirk curled his lips, as he pulled her back against him.

"I know."

_That presumptuous jerk! How dare he _assume _that she loved him based on his own whim! _A cruel, very un-Hermione-ish smile lit up her lips.

_I'll show you, Mr. Know-It-All._

* * *

><p>"Come in!"<p>

His ancient voice sounded tired and weary, and Hermione felt a stab of pity for the man who didn't deserve the tribulations of the world. She had never understood Tom's hatred of the man, but she regarded him highly.

"Miss Duerre," he said, looking mildly surprised. It was very rare that any of the Slytherins associated with him in less the had to.

Then again, even the professors knew that Hermione wasn't your average Slytherin.

"Sorry to bother you, Professor, I just...may I sit down?" He solemnly nodded towards the empty chair.

"Would you care for a lemon drop?" Hermione declined, wondering how best to approach the subject.

"Professor...Professor, to cure the students that were attacked, Madam Bonham needs to brew a Mandrake draught. They've...they've been petrified."

Dumbledore sat up straighter. "I...how do you know this?"

Hermione felt nervous under his gaze, which seemed to look through to her very soul. "Since the first attack, I've been doing a lot of research. For a very long time, I didn't come up with anything. Then, one day, I was reading _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, and came across the entry about Basilisks. Later, I read something about the term of Petrification, and concluded that the only way a student could have been petrified was through the reflected gaze of a Basilisk."

Dumbledore blinked several times, and then stood up, moving towards a bookcase that sat behind his desk and skimming over some of the books spines. "You, of course, understand what this means, Miss Duerre?" She felt a swell of pride that he understood that she was intelligent enough to be aware of what others weren't.

"Yes, sir. The heir of Slytherin is at Hogwarts, and they've opened the Chamber of Secrets. Only they can control the Basilisk, because whoever they are, they're a Parselmouth." Hermione hesitated, wondering if she should mention what else was on her mind

_No, Hermione. Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign._

But Hermione ignored her inner-Tom, who would confide in no one for help and work on his own to get to the bottom of the mystery. "Professor, if I told you something, would you be suspicious of me."

Hermione was surprised when Dumbledore turned and smiled knowingly. "Just because I am an old coot, Miss Granger, does not mean that I am deaf nor blind. I've heard the whispers too, and I can honestly say, you are the _last _person I would suspect."

She was startled and ashamed to find that she felt tears brimming at the corners of her eyes, so surprised at how vindictive Dumbledore's trust in her was. "Thank you, Professor. I just...twice it's happened now. The first time, the night after Waywell Samson was attacked. I had been researching in the library till very late. I was walking back to the common room, when I started hearing...voices."

He was staring at her intently, and she continued. "It sounded like...like a...hissing...sort of...and..."

Dumbledore looked like he was thinking very hard now. Finally, he spoke, "Did you know...I can understand Parseltongue, Miss Duerre."

Hermione knew that her face was ridiculous, but she hardly cared. Dumbledore? A Dark wizard? It hardly made any sense! "Relax, Miss Duerre," he said, smiling as if he sensed her presumptions. As I said, I'm an old man, with many years of solitude. I've learned the langue, but alas, cannot speak it."

"I'd prefer you didn't," she said honestly, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"Therefore, what you heard, that night, in the halls, was the Basilisk. It was moving to it's home, most likely."

"I wonder where it is," Hermione mused aloud. "If the castle has been searched numerous time...perhaps it lives in the Forbidden Forest."

Dumbledore shook his head. "If the Basilisk lived in the Forbidden Forest, no other life would be able to exist. They feed on nearly everything."

Hermione frowned, staring down at the stone floor. "Sorry, sir, I just...I want to figure this out. I _actually _care about the other students, unlike..." She stopped, her gaze hardening.

"I am not unaware of your housemates emotions towards the other students, and I understand that it isn't they're fault, it's just...how they were raised." His voice was gentle, and it infuriated Hermione.

"I don't understand it, Professor!" she objected. "I was raised in the exact same type of household they were raised in! My parents looked down on Muggleborns and blood traitors too. But...I don't like the idea of an innocent Muggleborn dying for something they can't help."

Dumbledore perused her carefully, peering at her over his long, folded fingers. "Interesting, isn't it?" He said finally. "It's the _nature-versus-nurture_ argument, isn't it? Perhaps, you are simply more wholly _good _then you're classmates, Miss Duerre."

"But they're _good _people," Hermione insisted. "Just...not regarding Muggleborns."

"Perhaps that is the determining factor," Dumbledore said, not unkindly. "It is not the depth of our goodness, but _when _we choose to apply it." Her frustration didn't seem to be abated by his words, so he continued. "The majority of your classmates could turn out to be heroic...if they have the right guidance. However, bad influences placed in the wrong situation can bring out the evil in all of us." Hermione didn't need to ask who he was referring to, but was annoyed with her self when she felt a rush of defensiveness at his implication. He leaned closer to her, his blue eyes suddenly very serious.

"Miss Duerre...is there...something you wish to tell me?"

This was it. The moment of truth-the turning point. _It is not the depth of our goodness, but _when _we choose to apply it._ Was this the when? Was he testing her? She knew, if she could just seek out of the bravery within her, she would open her mouth.

But then Tom's face appeared in her mind, smiling, laughing at a joke she'd made, teasing her about her erratic studying patterns, looking at her, or the two of them, just talking. Did she really want him expelled, or worse, to rot away in Azkaban for the rest of his brilliant life?

"No sir," she said finally, studying her hands. "Nothing"

He sighed. "Very well, you may go." She felt the sting of the dismissal, but more than anything she heard the disappointment clear in his voice, and it wretched at the pit of her stomach, making her feel worse than just a complicit. Making her feel like a _criminal_.

She walked into the Slytherin common room and sat down next to the boys, feeling very emotionally drained. None of them said anything, but she saw Abraxas glance at her unsurely.

Moments later, Tom strode through the portrait, looking emmaculate as ever, and his eyes immediately swiveled to her face. "Where've you been?" he questioned sharply. "I've been looking all over for you."

"I was speaking with Dumbledore." She tried very hard to keep the threat out of her voice. Tom was impassive in front of the boys, but she saw a calculating glint in his eyes. Before he could address her, Ignatius spoke.

"What were you talking to that old coot for?" He boomed in his deep, baritone voice. "Ruddy bastard gave a a detention for swearing in his class!"

"You do swear too much, Ignatius," Hermione reminded him.

"The Hell I do! The git was just looking for an excuse to get me a trouble! Bloody Jack-Ass -Weasley can't say a sentence without swearing, and Dumbledore didn't do an damn thing! Pssh, swear too much," the last part was a scoff, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll admit I'm curious, too," Tom said softly. "Why _were _you talking to Dumbledore?"

"I was asking him a question about our Transfiguration project."

Tom gave her a look that clearly said, "Bullshit," but she ignored him, turning away from his perfect face to stare moodily into the fire.

The next morning Hermione awoke with a gasp to find Tom hovering over her, his lips pressed against her collarbone.

"Where are the girls?" She said immediatley, attempting to look around at the empty dormitory, but Tom kept his attention firmly on him.

"Hogsmeade," He breathed, before lowering himself on her, supporting most of his weight on his hands and knees, but she was still very aware of him. " I confess I was...disappointed...when you didn't come to me last night."

She looked at him in surprise. "The boys were in there."

"That's what curtains are for," he said slyly. "And silencing charms-although the latter wouldn't be necessary if _someone _wasn't so _loud_." He seemed to revel in the deep blush that stained her cheeks.

"It isn't my fault," she protested as his lips left a trail down her neck.

"Your right," he agreed. "It isn't your fault that I pleasure you so."

"No," she argued, growing angrier by the minute. She sat up, and he leaned away from her, looking quite put-out. "It isn't my fault that _someone _is a murderer."

All to quickly, he slammed her against the headboard, his hands gripping her upper arms painfully tight. "_You told_," he hissed.

"No!" she said quickly, wincing at his grip. "I-I just said that I'd found a cure for the petrification, and that-ow, Tommy! You're hurting me!"

His eyes seemed to light up with sadistic pleasure, and with a snarl, Hermione brought her knee up, effectively hitting him in the groin. He groaned, falling off of her and rolling off the bed, moaning again as he hit the floor with a pronounced _thump_. Hermione acted quickly, jumping off after him and attempting to locate his wand. She found it within his robes, and started to move away with it, when he reached out, grasping her ankle and pulling her to the floor with him. She let out a yelp of fury, attempting to claw at his hand grasping her. He let out a roar as her nails penetrated his skin, drawing blood. He grasped her shoulders, rolling them over so that he was hovering over again, only this time, instead of looking down on her with soft, admiring eyes, his eyes were full of malice and fury.

"So this is how you treat someone..." He breathed. "-when you love them?"

Hermione's movements still quiet suddenly,and she stared up at him, her breathing laborous. "Why would you tell? Why would you do that to me?" His innocent-boy voice caused Hermione to feel a little remorseful towards her betrayal. Afterall, did he really deserve it?

_Stop it. He's playing with your head. _

_ "_I-I didn't tell," she argued weakly. "I...I wouldn't do that to you." She felt her stomach turn at the raw honestly of her words as seh remembered her moral conflict back in Dumbledore's office. She hadn't told, but she was certain Dumbledore knew. However, it would be very hard for him to nail Tom with no evidence, and if she knew Tom as well as she thought she did, she knew he would never be stupid enough to give himself away.

"Mmm, I know you wouldn't." Hermione's eyes were drawn back to Tom's face. He stroked back her hair, all traces of anger gone. "But Dumbledore is...suspicious...is he not?"

"Yes...he knows who's behind the attacks."

"Very well," Tom said affirmatively, not looking frightened, but contemplative. Then  
>Tom looked at Hermione with an emotion that she couldn't recognize. "Stay out of dark corridors late at night," he said softly. "It only goes after Mudbloods, but we wouldn't want any...accidents. I would be..." He hesitated. "It would be a shame if it got you."<p>

_It would hurt me if something happened to you._

"And," he held up a hand, reaching into his robes, and moments later, he withdrew a small hand mirror. "Carry this with you at all times."

"Tom-"

"-It's necessary," he insisted.

"No, Tom, listen, why don't you just _stop_? Why students? They're just _children_. You're just a _child-_"

"I am not a child!" He said sharply, loudly, and his voice seemed to echo around the empty dormitory.

"Then quit acting like one," Hermione's voice was not mean, but held a discernable amount of concern which Tom did not understand. "It's alright to have you're own opinions, but when you start acting on them, and it affects other people, you're going down the wrong road."

He blinked uncomprehendingly at her, and she sighed defeatedly. "Nevermind. I'll...I'll see you later, Tommy."

He caught her hand as she walked away and she turned to face him questioningly. His face was open, vulnerable as he stared at her pleadingly.

"Don't make me choose."

"What?"

"Don't make me choose," he repeated. "Between you and...and..." he didn't seem to be able to say it.

"Why?"

"B-Because...well you know why. I can't stay away from the Dark arts, you know this, and you...well you're..." He tried to act casual, but Hermione could see the tension in his eyes. "You're my right-hand man," he said, grinning weakly. "My first mate. You can't...you can't make me choose."

"I don't want this, Tom." Her voice was hoarse. "I don't want to watch the world collapse."

He scrunched up his face, as if smelling something very bad, and bowed his head. "I don't...I don't _want _to be a monster." he admitted quietly.

She took a few steps closer to him. "Then don't."

He let out a bark of laughter that held no humor. "It's too late."

"It's never too late!" Hermione insisted, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, turning away from her .

"Leave," he commanded, and before he turned to face away from her, she thought she saw his eyes watering.

"Tom-"

"Leave," he repeated. "Please...please, just go."

Hermione dropped her hand to her side and then hesitantly moved towards the door, giving him a final backwards glance before closing it behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>an: Good? Bad? Somewhere in the middle? So I tried not to make Tom _fluffy_, exactly, just honest. I hope you guys really liked it! I had a sudden vision of Tom and Hermione going all Twilight-status, with Hermione standing in the middle of a forest with Tom behind her, and Hermione's like, "I know what you are" and Tom's like, "Say it, Out loud!" Haha I think that would be cool:) Sorry, I'm on a Twilight bust right now:)**

**Review! No Flames!:)**

**All of my love!**

**xoxo**

**Thanks!:)**


	12. Author's Note

**Heyy guys,**

**Sorry for the false alarm, but this isn't an update. I've just gotten back my finals results, and I didn't do very well. My next semester is starting this Thursday, and I'm going to try very hard to put 100% focus into my studies, therefore I might not be updating as frequently. I'll do it as best as I can, whenever I have free time and these last four days, but I really need to, as Ron would say, "Sort out my priorities". **

**What I'm going to try to do for these next few days is write as much as I possibly can without dying of starvation, sleep depravation, or lack of potty-break. I might even try and finish the story, and I'll do my absolute best not to rush it:)**

**Thank you all for being such faithful readers, and I hope you'll stick around through my horrible author-ness. The reviews continue to make my day:)**

**Hope you see you all soon!**

**All my love,**

**xoxo**


	13. Black Hole

**a/n: Heyy guys! So I'm kinda in an updating rush, which isn't coming out to the best start considering how long this chapter took, but I hope you aren't all disappointed. A lot of research went with chapter o.o**

**Disclaimer: Jo owns**

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><p>Chapter Twelve:<p>

The Black Hole

_Definition: (n) A region in which nothing, not even light, can escape_

Hermione fiddled with the drawstring of her cloak nervously, tapping her feet against the bedpost. The slightest sounds made her jump, like Victoria Greengrass's sharp peels of laughter and the rustle of Walburga's magazine as she turned the page. After Hermione had stood up and paced around the room for the fifth time, Walburga's eyes snapped towards her and she said huffily, "Good _lord _Duerre, sit your bum down!"

Victoria laughed loudly. "She anxious. Tom and the boys aren't yet, and she wants to see her man." The two girls laughed, and Druella gave Hermione a sympathetic look.

"I think I'll just go patrol without him," Hermione muttered, not really listening to anything her roommates were saying.

"I'll come with you," Druella said quickly, jumping to her feet.

The two of the girls walked down the corridors in silence. No one was out tonight; the number of increasing attacks was scaring everyone back to the safety of their common rooms. Only the Slytherins seemed to be at comfort with the situation, and this both disgusted and infuriated Hermione.

"Do you think they'll stop it?" Druella said in her quiet, thoughtful way.

" I don't know," Hermione said honestly. There was no point trying to lie to the girl, or reassure her; Druella was smart enough to see through all of that. She had heard the teachers in the classrooms and the Great Hall:

"_Nothing's wrong."_

_ "We'll sort it out."_

_ "You're perfectly safe."_

Lies.

Druella had suddenly stopped walking, and she was staring at Hermione with a piercing expression, her bright blue eyes eerily knowing. "I don't think he hurts people as a hobby," she told Hermione matter-of-factly. "He just wants power, and reasons with himself by telling himself that the ends will justify the means. But...try to get through to him...there's...there's good in him _somewhere_. I can feel it."

Hermione's face resembled a fish as she stared, dumbstruck, at the younger girl. Finally, she seemed to snap out of her stupor. "How-How could you _possibly _know?"

But if she was honest with herself, she wasn't all that surprised. Druella was an extremely intelligent girl, nearly as intelligent as Hermione herself. And unlike most of the girls at Hogwarts, not only was she unable to be swayed by Tom Riddle's fantastic looks and charismatic personality, but she was capable of putting two and two together.

"I won't tell," Druella said, and Hermione knew it was true. "And I don't think you should either. But I do think you should remind him that he's playing with fire here, and even though right now its only burning the edges, if it gets out of control, it could turn right back around and consume its source."

Seeming to think she'd gotten her point across, Druella gave Hermione a soft, encouraging smile, and turned away, heading back in the direction she had come, leaving the older girl to ponder over her words.

Deciding that it was useless to go back to her dormitory, Hermione leaned against the cold stone wall, tapping her wand aganist her thigh as she waited...and waited...and waited...

_Cooooommme to mmmeeeee_

Hermione snapped to attention, immediately sprinting in the direction of the voice. she wound through corridor after corridor, her ears bleeding from the screech of the hiss against her ear drums. Her mind wasn't really processing the situation, wasn't really thinking about what she'd _do _when she saw the Basilisk...

She sprinted up the staircase and realized where she was nearing: The Seventh Floor. She ran through the winding maze of hallways, nearly delirious with adrenaline, until she came to a hallway that she knew ended in a dead end. In the distance, she could just see the figure of a girl, looking about fifteen or sixteen...

"Hermione!"

The girl seemed to recognize her as she came closer, and Hermione realized it was Maddison Wells, a Muggleborn Ravenclaw.

"Don't you hear it?" Hermione screamed, not caring that most of the castle was sleeping. "Don't you hear it-run!"

"Hear what Hermione?" Maddison looked bewildered at Hermione's terror. "Hermione calm down! What are you talking about?"

"Don't you hear it? Maddison you've got to-"

Just as Hermione reached her, a strange thing happened. There was a loud, banging noise above Maddison's head. Her brown eyes swiveled upward, and Hermione dove on top of the girl, clamping her hands down over her face, shielding her.

Hermione trembled as she buried her face in the girls shoulder, and she felt the girl shaking beneath her as she realized what was going on. They both heard a curious rattling noise above there heads, as if something in the walls was moving _with _the creature.

The hissing started again, this time so near that Hermione jumped. She felt cold terror trickle down her back when she felt something very cold and moist flick out to taste the skin of her neck. It seemed to do the same to Maddison, because she let out a dry sob.

Hermione wondered if now was the time to act. If she should jump to her feet and kill the snake before it could harm anyone else. But before she acted rashly, her logic sifted through this idea, and she realized that if she did get up, she'd be fighting the snake blindly, not to mention she was sure that the killing curse wouldn't work on something with such thick skin.

They stayed like that for nearly ten minutes before Hermione shifted away from her, shakily risking a glance upward. The beast had obviously gone, either realizing he could claim no victim or thinking that they were both dead.

She helped Maddison to her feet. The girls face was so pale that she looked ill, and Hermione wondered if she had gone into shock.

"Was that it, then?" Asked the redhead shakily. "Was that Slytherin's monster?"

"That was it," Hermione confirmed.

Maddison grimaced, still shaking as the two fo them made there way out of the winding hallways, seeming to twitch at every movement. "I'm sorry, Hermione," she said after a moment. "I'll admit, I didn't doubt those rumors, about you being the one attacking people. But...you just saved my life."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, waving off her apology. "You weren't the only one that believed the rumors."

"But...I'm curious. How'd you know where it was going to be?"

"I heard it," Hermione lied easily. "It makes a lot of noise in those walls, if you listen well enough."

The realization seemed to hit her just as the words left her mouth. She stopped walking, and the other girl looked back at her confusedly.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"The pipes!"

Maddison looked bewildered and vaguely concerned about Hermione's mental health. "Pardon?"

"The pipes!" Hermione repeated, hurrying to catch up with her. "That's how its been getting around Hogwarts without being seen. The pipes in Hogwarts have to be _awfully _large to accomodate for all the rooms, so it makes sense that that would be its means of travel..."

And Hermione was lost in thought as she considered her next move. She said goodbye to Maddison at the Ravenclaw door and continued down the grand staircase, hardly paying any mind to where she was going.

If the Basilisk was traveling through the pipes, than there was really no way that they could catch the animal while it was moving. Which meant that they would either have to stop it right before it attacked, liked Hermione had just done, or...

She stopped for the second time that night, eyes widening to the size of saucers.

If the Basilisk was traveling through the pipes, than that meant that wherever it slept, wherever it _lived_, had to be connected to the pipe system, which narrowed it down to either the kitchens or the bathrooms, which meant that, most likely, the chamber of secrets was either in the kitchens or the bathrooms.

Hermione frowned, skimming her fingers along the brick walls contemplatively. She could pretty much narrow out the kitchens. If the Basilisk lived in the kitchens, the house elf population would most likely be pretty low.

So that just left that bathrooms. There was a fair amount of bathrooms at Hogwarts. One in each boys and girls dormitory, two on the first floor, second floor, fourth floor, and the Prefect's bathroom. Not to mention the Quidditch locker rooms, and the teachers' offices. She would have to think this through.

As she lay in bed that night, Hermione went over her plans again and again, going through every little detail that her mind might've overlooked, every little seemingly meaningless fact about Hogwarts.

She was positive that the entrance wouldn't be in either of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw bathrooms, and most likely not in the Slytherin girls bathroom, since it was supposed Slytherin's heir, not _heiress_ who was causing the mayhem. Which left the Slytherin boys bathroom, the two on the first, second and fourth floors, the Prefect's bathroom, the Quidditch lockers and the teachers' offices.

Hermione stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. Perhaps she'd have to do a little research. Maybe if she could find out which classes Salazar Slytherin taught, then she could figure out which offices she needed to check.

Yes, she decided quite firmly. That would be the first step to figuring this out.

Library.

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><p>She could practically imagine her friends' groans when they realized she was not at breakfast this morning. But she contented herself with the thought that it was for a good cause, and as she plopped down in her favorite chair, cradling the book in her arms, she could help but feel a burst of elation at another mystery to solve, despite the daunting reason of it.<p>

After a few hours, Hermione had gathered that Salazar Slytherin had taught Potions, Alchemy, Arithmancy and Herbology. The Herbology teacher, didn't have a bathroom facility, and therefore Hermione ruled out the Herbology office. She also ruled out the Alchemy room, since there was no longer an Alchemy class and had most likely been a room shared with the Potions classroom. Which only left Arithmancy and Potions. Which meant that she would have to search Professor Slughorn and Professor Max's classrooms.

Which meant that she would have to be a dishonest student.

Hermione snapped the book shut, swallowing thickly. She had never attempted to trick a teacher before, and she had certainly never tried to break into their office. But the impeding disaster gave her determination that ruled over her regular sensibility.

Hermione waited until lunch time, encouraging her friends to go with out her, untruthfully promising that she'd be down later. When she was sure that she had sidetracked them, and she could see Slughorn's round, wide body seated up at the head table, to stealthy moved towards the dungeons, trying very hard not to look suspicious when she passed people. She came to Slughorn's door and glanced around warily. When she was sure that there was no one within a fifty yard radius, she withdrew her wand and whispered, "_Alohamora_." She was thrilled but not altogether surprised when the door swung open easily with a _click_, granting her entrance to each of Slughorn's dirty little secrets.

The office looked just the same as it had the last time she had come to speak with him. The shelves were filled with pictures of important looking people, each posing with a very greedy-looking Slughorn. Yes, he was greedy. In each of the pictures, Slughorn had that same self-satisfied glint in his eye. Hermione shivered in digust.

She search the office thoroughly, tapping against the walls for some secret hideway and feeling the floors for a trapdoor. She had ruthlessly combed the office from front to end, and she knew that lunch was almost over, so she defeatedly left the office, locked the door behind her, and turned to head back up the stairs.

"I think you'll find Slughorn in the Great Hall."

Hermione jumped, her heart dropping at the sound of that voice. She swiveled to see Tom leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. He pushed off the wall as her eyes landed on him and started towards her, looking relatively intimidating.

"But I'm sure you already knew that."

"I was going to see if he'd graded our tests yet," she said quickly. It seemed like a solid, plausible, Hermione-answer. Always ambitious, always willing to push the boundaries to reach her goals.

No, wait. That was Tom.

"Liar," he hissed. He stepped clother to her, curling a tendril of her hair around his finger, frowning down at it. He looked frustrated. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Looking for the test," she repeated slowly, as if she were talking to a child, because she knew that would piss him off.

So, naturally, she was mildly annoyed when he didn't seem fazed.

"What happened to the days when you would tell me thing? What happened to the dynamic duo?"

"You've always been a solo worker, Tom, don't pretend otherwise _now_."

He sighed, seeming to mull over her words. "I suppose I always have been. Still...I miss you." She was smart enough to know that his words were not meant out of sentiment, but greed. Funny. He and Slughorn seemed to share that character trait.

"You should drop it," he continued. "Whatever you're trying to solve...you won't figure it out."

"I'm not as daft as you think Tom." Hermione's face rearranged into a cold mask as she leaned closer to him, lowering her voice. "And neither is everyone else. They're capable of putting two and two together."

"You say that an awful lot, Duerre." He snapped, suddenly angry.

"Maybe its because I'm trying to get it through your head!" Hermione retorted before storming off, feeling both triumphant and hurt when he did not come after her.

Her former elation at the new mystery to solve was quickly faded when, after two weeks of searching, she had found absolutely nothing. She had checked Professor Max's classroom to no avail, the Prefects bathroom, the first, second, and fourth floor, had asked Abraxas to peek around the boys' dormitory, and had even ventured into the disgustingly smelly Quidditch lockers.

She was at a loss. And it wouldn't have been so disappointing if there hadn't been three more attempted attacks. Hermione wondered if, soon, there would be any Muggleborns _left _in Hogwarts. She had stopped the first two, but the third one had been unpreventable. She was awestruck, nonetheless, at the luck of these kids.

No one had died.

-Yet...

She was feeling more drained than she ever had in her life, not to mention angry with herself because of her neglect towards her O.W.L revisions. It was drawing very close to June, and she hardly felt as prepared as she should be.

The next evening, Hermione found herself sneaking into the kitchens after nearly five hours of studying. Her mind felt temporarily soothed from the stress of the mystery, though it had only been replaced with the stress of her upcoming examinations. She scarfed down a quicky meal and then hurried off to bed, partly wishing that the Basilisk would just appear in front of her so she could do him in and be done with it.

On June 8th, notices were put up as a warning for the upcoming O.W.L's, which were apparently supposed to take place from the sixteenth of June to the thirtieth. When Hermione entered the great hall that morning, she noticed with amusement that students that she had never even seen enter the library in all her years at Hogwarts were hastily flipping through notes, quizzing each other and frantically revising. Hermione started to laugh aloud, before she realized that that would be her, come the day before, and she immediately stopped.

"Good to see you back from the dead," Myles teased, pretending to be highly offended when Hermione flipped him the bird.

"You seem oddly cheerful this morning," Walburga noted. Hermione tried very hard to ignore Tom's burning gaze. "Not fretting over O.W.L's?"

"You know what?" Hermione said, buttering her toast rather sassily. "I've decided, that I'm bloody brilliant, and whether I study for them or not, I'll do spectacular, so, screw that..." She set her knife down on her plate, looking up at Walburga suddenly with a wild grin. "...And, we're done."

Walburga looked awestricken, and Abraxas let out a whoop of laughter, clapping her on the back. "Who are you, and what have you done with our Mione?"

She grinned, wider this time, and with a burst of courage, turned to meet Tom's challenging gaze. He arched a single eyebrow at her, and though his expression was severe, Hermione saw amusement sparkling in his eyes. Finally, he broke off their little game, lowering his gaze to cut his sausage. But he spoke without looking at her, and she didn't like his tone of voice.

"What, indeed?"

She didn't like it at all.

* * *

><p>Hermione had a free period after her first class of the day. It had been double potions with the Gryffindors, but, for once, she had had no problem tuning out their obnoxious voices. She was focusing to hard on deciphering the look that had been on Tom's face that morning at breakfast. It wasn't a threating look, and it wasn't a I'm-going-to-kill-you-if-you-don't-stop-doing-that-thing-you-do look, it was just a deep, dark, calculating look, that, in Tom's book, could mean a hundred different things.<p>

Hermione sighed, deciding that she was thinking too much, and took a detour off the grand staircase, trudging down one of the more dimly lit hallways and slipping into the second-floor bathroom.

She haphazardly tossed her bag onto the floor, placing her hands on either side of the sink and leaning against it.

Five years ago, ten years ago, fifteen even, since she had ever even _known _about Hogwarts, she never would've imagined that she would have been caught up in a web _this thick_. Of course, she knew she'd have adventures, and make discoveries, and have moments of such panic, such fear, but not like this...

She was dug in _way _deeper than she'd ever wanted to be, and yet she couldn't help but nudge away the dirt with her toes, slipping farther and farther down into the mess that was Hogwarts.

No. Into the mess that was Tom Riddle.

She turned on the tap, letting the cold water run over her sweating hands and then leaning over the sink, splashing it onto her face. She stayed like that for a few moments, still...trembling.

She wondered, briefly, what Hogwarts would have been like if she and Tom had been in a different year. Would she still have felt that inexplicable attraction for him, even from the very start? Would he still have rallied his knights, drawing them from the older age groups? Would he have had power, even from an inferior position?

Or if Tom hadn't gone to Hogwarts at all. If she had just gone through Hogwarts with a normal group of friends. Everyday, pretending to listen to Walburga prattle on about boys and fashion and petty things. Easily being top of the year, without any competition. Without any motivation. She probably would have ended up marrying Abraxas or Myles.

She shook her head, blinking widely, attempting to unfog her mind of the _what ifs_ that were so useless and implausible in reality. She had never been an illogical person, and it was hardly helpful _now_, _here_, to start thinking about what her life would have been like without him.

Not _now_, when she was so bewildered and infuriated and captivated by his very being.

She blinked again and froze, her breath catching so suddenly that she nearly choked.

There, engraved in the hard, cold stone of the tap, was a small, intricately carved snake.

Her jaw dropped as she studied the sink more thoroughly, noticing more and more of them now, and with a jolt, she realized that she sink was covered in dozens of them, all small and easily missed. A hundred emotions rushed through her at that moment.

She was standing at the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets.

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><p><strong>an: Alright! Here's where it gets exciting...ish...haha:P I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope the Hermione laying on top of the other girl to protect didn't sound to awkward, cuz when i read it over, it sounded more awkward than I had intented while writing it, lol:)**

**Review! No flames!:) Thanks for reading and I'll update as soon as I can!:)**

**All my love,**

**xoxo**


	14. Two and Two

**a/n: Heyy guys! Sorry for the delay! I've been rather busy, and my sleeping patterns are quite screwed up. Tomorrow the next semester starts, so I can't promise regular updates, but I'll try as hard as I possibly can.**

**So, I have a question, and I'd really like you all to read this: Do you think that I should go through with her sixth, seventh, and 18th and 19th year, or would anyone be terribly upset if I didn't show those. Because I kind of have a plan, but I don't want anyone disappointed in the story because there are missing chapters. The thing is, I wasn't planning on anything dreadfully exciting happening in those last years, but if anyone wants them, I suppose I can write them out.**

**Let me know! Hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Property of J.K Rowling**

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><p>Chapter Thirteen:<p>

Two and Two

"See what perils do environ those who meddle with hot iron. "

Hermione froze, her body seeming to literally stiffen to the point where she could not move. She wondered momentarily if maybe the Basilisk had gotten her, but she realized that she could still feel her breath leaving her chest in an erratic pattern. Fear pulsed through her veins faster than she had ever felt. She couldn't even bring herself to draw her wand, couldn't even bring herself and turn to face him.

_"Hermione."_

She shuddered. The way he had said her name-like a lover's caress-was nearly enough to break all her willpower on its own. But she jutted her chin out defiantly, still refusing to look at him.

"Are you afraid?" She called, attempting to taunt him, though the affect was ruined by the prominent tremble in her voice. "Are you frightened-now that I know your secret?"

He chuckled lowly and Hermione realized how close he was; his breath fanned out across the back of her neck. "Should I be frightened, little mouse?" he touched her elbow gently, and she felt the outline of his body against her back-his firm shoulders, his strong thighs, the hard muscles of his stomach. "What have I to fear?"

"I'll-I'll sneak down there!" she told, her voice sounding wild, childish, even in her own ears. "I'll kill the monster while you're sleeping."

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through his chest and onto her skin. "And how do you propose you'd get in?" She faltered, and he brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear with his lips. "_Think _about it, Hermione."

She peered down at the intricate snake carvings, her forehead crumpling in concentration. Think about _what_? Why wouldn't she have been able to-

_Naturally, the school has been searched time and time again. No such chamber has been found._

"You have to speak Parseltongue."

"Very good, Hermione." He traced down her neck with his lips now, his arms encasing her in his inescapable grasp. "Good girl. Clever girl..." Hermione felt like he had utter control over her, and she didn't like that feeling at all. Every touch, every steamy glance seemed to just make him more and more possessive.

_Own or be owned. _

Jerking so suddenly that he could hardly follow her movement, she lifted her foot backwards, planting it firmly in his groin area. Tom let out a grunt, releasing her immediately and slithering to the floor, his hands holding his wounded privates.

Hermione's jaw dropped as she realized what she had just done. She hastily picked up her fallen want and sprinted out of the room, but not before immobilizing Tom, just to give her a few extra minutes.

_I'msodeadI'msodeadI'msodeadI'mSODEAD_

She sprinted up the Grand Staircase, ignoring the bewildered looks people were giving her, and charged onto the seventh floor, wanting to put as much space between she and the soon-to-be enraged Slytherin prefect as possibly.

She turned corner after corner, realizing immediately that she should have just gone outside.

_I need to hide I need to hide I need to hide I need to hide..._

She skidded to a stop quite suddenly. The wall to her right, which had, before, just been a blank expanse of wall, was shifting, taking on the form of a door. She cautiously pushed it open, finding the room empty inside. The door snapped shut behind her.

Looking around, she could find nothing extraordinary about the room. It was a tall room, maybe 30 or so feet high, and wide enough to hold one of the Gryffindor's raucous parties. The stone floor was cracked and battered, and one of the walls had a curiously red stain on it.

"The Come and Go Room," she murmured aloud. "Of course!"

She looked around the room again, new found admiration clouding her eyes, and, after a moment, she found that the room wasn't quite so bad afterall.

Hermione waited another half an hour before reluctantly leaving the room, hoping that she'd be able to find it again. She carefully noted that it was across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, who was, rather sadly, attempting to teach trolls ballet.

When she arrived back to the common room, Walburga seemed frantic. "HERMIONE!" shrieked the younger girl, throwing her arms around her neck. "Wherever you been? Tom said that the monster dragged you down to its lair!"

Hermione peered curiously at Tom, but immediately lowered her eyes at his frosty glare." Well it would've been a shame," he supplied, and she winced at his tone of voice. "I looked for you."

"I was hiding," she told him honestly. "I didn't particularly feel like dying today."

Tom didn't seem amused. His lip curled up into a snarl and every other member of the room seemed to wince in fear.

Except Hermione.

She strode past him, her nose in the air, and disappeared into the girls dormitory, taking special care to slam the door particularly hard behind her.

So now Hermione spent every moment she could with Tom. She was near him every class they had together, stayed by his side at lunch, and the few times when he would disappear, she would hurry to the second floor, standing guard in front of the sink.

Tom didn't seem to mind her constant presence. He had gotten over the bathroom incident fairly quickly, although in Potions, when Slughorn was rambling away, he had traced his fingers along her thighs, lewdly suggesting that she kiss it better.

A few evenings later, Hermione lie in bed, wondering how on earth she was going to go through with Druella's advice; how could she make a point strong enough to get it through the head of the most obstinate boy she had ever met in her entire life.

Actually, strangely enough, there hadn't been another attack lately, and she wondered, cautiously optimistic, if he had lost his fire.

From across the hall, she heard the boys coming back, laughing boisterously at some joke that Myles had just made. She crept across the floor, trying not to wake the girls, and cracked the door open. Abraxas seemed to hear it, because he turned and shook his head reprimandly at her. "He's not here."

Hermione was more worried than she let on. "Who?" Abraxas gave her a knowing look and she sighed. "Fine. Well, where is he?"

"He went to go deliver some more crystallized pineapple to Professor Slughorn." At Abraxas' eye roll, she knew that he found Tom's arse-kissing just as ridiculous as she did.

"Very well. Thanks, Abraxas. Good night."

"Good night Hermione."

She slipped back into her room, crawling back into her bed and drawing the covers up to her chin. She wasn't as gullible as Abraxas, of course, and she was almost positive that Tom was nowhere near where he had said he would be.

_Go to sleep_, she told herself wearily. _Deal with it, tomorrow_.

It wasn' t that difficult for her body to obey her mind, and soon, she was drifting off into a comfortable slumber.

_Yessssss, sssssllllleeeeep little mouusssse. Giiiiive meeeee youuur heeeearrt._

_ Just a dream_, she told herself without opening her eyes, attempting to bury her ears in the pillow.

_Ssssleeeep, little sssseerrrpent, and I SSSSHAAALLLLLL FEEEAAAASSSTTT!_

Hermione sat up sharply, her hair sticking to her forehead. Her breathing was coming quickly, too quickly, and as she eased herself back down onto her bed, trying as hard as she could to stop her heart from hammering its way right out of her chest, she couldn't stop the argument going on inside her mind.

_It was just a dream_, she told herself uncertainly. _Just a dream._

Finally, Hermione was able to fall back asleep, though she was awoken what seemed like only moments later by Walburga's early morning screech of, "_Three days till exams, ladies!"_ Simutaneous groans could be heard around the room, but Hermione just sat up groggily, massaging her temples and resenting the killer migraine that seemed to be eating away at her brain from the inside out.

"Nervous, Hermione?" Druella fell into step with the girls as they made their way to the great hall. "Apparently the exams are supposed to be a bit harder this year, with the more complex curriculum and all."

Had the curriculum been more complex? Hermione had hardly noticed. But she listened to Druella idling chat all the way to the Great Hall, grateful that, unlike Victoria or Walburga, Druella possessed the keen knack of being able to tell when someone didn't feel like talking.

_Just a dream Just a dream Just a dream Just a dream_

The two of them sat at the far end of the Slytherin table. Walburga and Lucretia were gossiping away happily, and Hermione felt her stomach turn a bit at their indifference. Although, she supposed she couldn't blame them. There hadn't been an attack in quite a while, now, and everyone's spirits seemed to be lifting.

Hermione uneasily pushed her food around on her plate, nibbling a bit on the eggs. The hall was loud this morning, everyone seeming to be cheery, despite the upcoming exams, and the noise was doing nothing for her head. She was just about to excuse herself to go to the Hospital Wing when the Great Hall doors flew open. A group of three girls shuffled in. The one trailing behind the other two had her face buried in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. Her two friends both looked extremely pale. It was as though they had just seen a ghost...

Hermione dropped her fork. Along with the girls, an ominous cold feeling seemed to have drifted into the great hall. The chatter had dimmed down as more and more people noticed the distraught trio, making their way towards the heads' table. Druella and Hermione were sitting close enough to hear what they said, but Hermione knew the words before they left her mouth.

"Professor?"

Dippet turned towards her, his great moustache rippling as his lips curled into a frown. "Um...yes...what...Miss Grippie?"

"Grove, sir," she corrected. "Sir...there's...there's a dead girl in the bathroom." Her voice broke on the last syllable, and Dippet jerked away from her as though she had announced that she had the plague. He looked dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. Dumbledore, next to him, rose to his feet.

"Students! Classes are cancelled for the day. Please go immediately to your common rooms."

Nobody cheered. There was a stiff sort of silence in the air that made it hard to breath. Hermione felt Druella tugging on her sleeve, urging her to move, but Hermione didn't seem to have any control over her limbs.

"Hermione, come on," the blonde girl muttered frustratedly. "There's nothing you can do."

_There's nothing you can do_. Her words twisted at Hermione's insides like no other. There was nothing Hermione hated more tha not being in control, and she felt helpless as she watched the teachers sweep the students towards their common room.

"Go on," she said finally, her voice coming out as little more than a whisper. "Head down to the dungeons. I'll...I'll be after you shortly."

"Hermione, no!" Druella argued, and Hermione winced, the desperation in the younger girl's voice hitting a nerve. "Just...let it be."

She shook Druella off, giving her a gentle, yet at the same time very demanding look. "Go back to the common room, Druella. _Now_." Only after the girl had left did Hermione realize, with a jolt, exactly _who _she sounded like.

She moved towards the second floor, sticking to the shadows. Up ahead, she could hear the frantic voices of teachers shouting back and forth, argumentative in their astonishment. Her eyes searched for him, straining against the dim light of the bleary morning. Perhaps he was assisting Dippet, as the noble Prefect that he was-

A hand shot out quite suddenly, pulling Hermione into an alcove. Before she had the chance to scream, a hand cover her mouth. She lit her wand, illuminating her companion.

Tom looked down on her with such an intensity in his gaze that she nearly looked away. His eyes, like burning fire, swept over her, pulling her closer still, as if this breadth of space, this marginal distance, was too far, as if he _needed _to be closer.

"You think me a monster."

Hermione nodded, and was horrified to realize that she was crying.

"You are more afraid than you have ever been in your entire life."

She didn't both given credence to his statement, even as his hand traced over her face, even as his long, elegant fingers danced across the bare skin of her neck.

"And yet, oh yes..." she looked up at him as a cold sort of triumph seemed to seep into his eyes. "Regardless...I am a monster. I am a _murderer_," she nodded again, nearly blind was the extremity of her tears. "You want me."

"I don't!" she insisted in a whisper, pounding her small fists into his chest. "I don't! You're sick!"

"_Shhh_," he cooed softly, gripping her wrists as he pulled her closer still, his wiry arms encasing her small figure. "There is no shame, Hermione. We all have our secret indulgences. I am yours."

There seemed to be a double meaning to his words, because she looked up at him, her brown eyes wide, cheeks flushed and hair bursting free of its plait.

Tom thought she had never looked more beautiful.

He seemed to sense her hesitation, because he leaned back, drawing her arms around his neck, and lifted her so that she was pressed against the cold stone wall, tying her legs around his waist. "There is no good and evil, Hermione. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."

Their current position made it difficult to respond-actually, it made any thought processing in general nearly impossible-but she swallowed thickly, trying not to notice how his eyes flickered to her neck at the movement. "If there was no good and evil," she started, cursing how utterly breathless her voice sounded. "Then there would be no boundaries. If we always did what we wanted, this world would be a sick place indeed."

He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "What do you want, Hermione? What do you desire?"

Her cheeks flushed at his choice of words, and for a moment, Hermione's mind flashed through her deepest desires, her most desperate wishes. She wished, so secretly of course, but none the less vehemently, that Pureblood's could just get over themselves. She had never seen a flaw in the prejudice before, but Tom's actions had proven to her that if one has opinions, dangerous opinions, they will reflect into one's everyday life.

What did she want? She wanted infinite, a library larger than London. She wanted success on a platter.

She wanted to see her father smile, to laugh again. She wanted to see the light, which had been gone for so long, find its way back into his eyes.

"I want you," she answered honestly, her words seeming to resound like a bell in the small alcove. "I've always wanted you. But, as I said, if we always took what we wanted, this world would be a sick, twisted place."

He regarded her carefully. "How so?"

She shifted, and she couldn't help but notice that all through their conversation, he had not once made a move to put her down, and she could feel him against her, solid and safe. "I remember, I was a child, and my mother and father took me to a candy shop. There were hundreds of different types of candy, but mother and father said I could only have two. I could hardly choose _only _two, so while their backs were turned, I slipped four different assortments of candy into my pocket." She paused. "They never knew."

He blinked, not seeming to understand her. She sighed, deeply inhaling his scent as she lifted a hand, absently threading it into his dark locks. His hair was soft underneath her fingers, and she found her unconsciously leaning forward to brush her cheeks against it, and then her lips. After a moment, she pulled away, though her hand lingered near his face. "If we always did what we wanted, the world would be a sick mess of lying and cheating and stealing. You, of all people Tom, admire loyalty. You would not have your Knights betray you, would you?" After a moment, he gave a sharp jerk of confirmation. "Exactly. How would it be, to never be able to trust _anyone?_ Brothers would turn on brothers, friends on friends. It would be war, Tom."

"You do not think we should ever take what we want."

"There's a healthy balance."

"I should not have you?"

"You shouldn't," she conceded, not meeting his eyes. "I am...I do not have the strength to fight you. You need someone who can convince that you're wrong, someone who can make you a better person." She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She seemed to deliberate her next words. "I don't...have the..._strength_...to stay away from you anymore."

"Then don't." His hands moved to her shoulders, tracing over her collar bone, making her shiver. "_Stop fighting me_."

Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "I'll never stop," she promised. "I'll never stop fighting you, because I'll never agree with what you've done. You'll always be this sick fantasy in my head, that, no matter how much I try to convince myself is wrong, I can't stay away from. I will trip, and I will stumble, and I will slip into your game, and I will be yours, and you will be mine, and we will succumb to our darker desires again, and _again, _and _again_, but I will _never _stop fighting you."

His eyes seemed to darken at her speech, and as she stared down at him, chest heaving, he nudged himself further between her legs and buried his face in the skin of her neck. Hermione shivered as his breath danced across her skin. His lips finally found their way up to hers, and she sighed in relief as he kissed her, in such a way that she knew she was totally hopeless. She tightened her arms around him, reveling in the way that his lips whispered her name, the excited thrum in her stomach igniting as he moved his hands to the opening at the front of her robes. His eyes met hers for one piercing moment, and Hermione, even without trying, could read them well enough to know that she was, in a sense, doomed.

_Hermione_

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><p><strong><em>a_n: Hope you all enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I really enjoy playing with Tom being a very sexual creature...hehe;) Make sure to tell me whether or not you want the extra years ^ or else I'll just have to go on my own whim:)**

**Review! No Flames!:)**

**All my love!**

**xoxo**


	15. Kiss of Fire, Kiss of Death

**A/N: Hiii guys! Sooo...I'm a terrible person. Feel free to agree. Its been SIX MONTHS! I knoooow, that's a reaaally long time, and I'm terribly sorry, and I'll be forever in your debt! I just got reaaally caught up and everything, and forgot that there was a whole bunch of committed, faithful, wonderful readers that were depending on me! I should be hung, I know. But I reaaally really hope this chapter makes up for the wait, and I'm even gonna shoot for a double update.**

**Don't really know what to do, but I'm gonna wing it! Thanks so much for keeping faith in me!**

**Here goes. Oooh I'm so excited!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own...nor do I deserve to :/**

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><p>Chapter Fourteen:<p>

Kiss of Fire, Kiss of Death

Light sprung between Hermione's eyelids before she could suck in a breath. She felt the soft cushions of the sofa beneath her and could hear the murmur of distant voices.

_Shit._

Hermione leapt to her feet, backing away from Rodolphus, who had surged toward her at her sudden movement. "_No!" _She shrieked. Even her own ears could detect a hint of hysteria in her voice. "_No!" _She repeated forcefully when Bellatrix stepped forward, attempting to calm her. "_Everyone stop. Do. Not. Touch. Me."__  
><em>

"Enough." That cold, distinct voice was enough to make the tears that had been welling in her eyes spill over onto her cheeks. "Leave us."

The inner circle slowly filed out, Draco throwing a sympathetic look over his shoulder. The gesture made her want to hurl. As soon as the door slammed, she whirled on Lord Voldemort.

"How _dare _you."

"How dare I?" He mused non-threateningly. "How...dare...I? Hmmm...I'm afraid you're going to have to clarify..._darling_."

"Oh don't _even!" _She snarled, moving to stand in front of him. "How _dare _you? You-you-you _defiled me!" _

The expression on his face was contemplative. For a brief moment, for the shortest instant, Hermione wondered if he still desired her the same way he did back then. But she shook her head, growling at her stupidity. He was a full-grown man, and not only that, but a _ monster_. She didn't even _want _him to desire her.

So what was the painful pang in her chest?

Finally, an emotionless mask slipped onto his face and he stared at her with a little less than a glare. "You are a slave to your emotions, Hermione. You don't need me to tell you that. You're irrational...impulsive-"

"You cannot stand here and insult me! I will not allow it!"

The sound of flesh against flesh rang out loud across the room before Hermione even felt the blow. She raised a hand to her cheek, which was stinging, and winced, her mouth falling open in shock. He stared at her without an ounce of sympathy, his blood red eyes flashing in the dimness of the room.

"You are _nothing _to me," she hissed in fury. Without another word she turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard that the walls seemed to tremble in her wake.

And Lord Voldemort stared after her, his eyes alive with nothing but the desire to kill.

Harry Potter let out a heavy sigh as he closed the kitchen door, trudging out towards the garden. The walls were overrun with weeds and ivy, and the yellowing grasses had grown past his knees. As he dumped the remains of the boiled water into the flower bed, he could've sworn he saw a gnome dart into the bushes.

With a grunt, he collapsed against a tree, leaning his elbows against his knees as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He was annoyed to feel a few tears slip from his eyes. He watched as they hit the dirt and dried quickly in the heat of the late August sun. More attacks had been reported in a far-out Muggle neighborhood, and two children, and brother and sister, had turned up dead.

"Oh, Mione," Harry muttered to himself. "You would know what to do."

In the distance, Harry heard a faint pop and he scrambled to his feet, nearly sprinting out of the garden. He was disappointed, however, to see that it was only Dumbledore striding up the lane at this hour.

"Hello, Professor. Any news?" His question was half-hearted. If there were news, she would be there herself to deliver it.

"Harry, my boy. Come...take a walk with me."

So Harry followed Dumbledore out past the garden and into the long, grassy fields behind the burrow. He could not help but feel a spark of something erupt in his chest. Maybe...maybe Dumbledore did have some news...a lead, at least. But Dumbledore's stride seemed leisurely, not that of a man with a mystery to solve. But Harry could hardly let that spark of hope be snuffed out. He watched the older man's face eagerly, for a sign of what he was going to say.

"Harry...you're getting to a point in your life where you are very...you're very old."

The younger boy's lips curved upwards in a fraction of a smile. "Not _that _old, Professor."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Yes, do forgive me. Not _that _old. But you are wise enough to know the basics of life. I have told you once before that you will come, many times in your life, face to face with the decision between what is right, and what is easy." He turned to Harry to see if he was following. When Harry nodded, he continued. "A dear friend of ours is faced with this decision today and throughout these upcoming days. Do you know of whom I'm speaking of?"

"_Hermione_," Harry breathed, but then his brows scrunched in confusion. "But...Professor...it's alright. If...I mean...if it _is _true, what they're saying in _The Prophet, _and Hermione _has _been captured by Death Eaters...she wouldn't even _think _about betraying me, or Ron...or any of us! Hermione's twice the person that any of us are. You should know that."

"Indeed I do," Dumbledore acquiesced. "But the decision that our friend faces...far beyond hurt, or betrayal, or any of that...Hermione faces a decision much deeper than you or I can comprehend." He paused. "Do you believe in destiny, Harry?"

Harry's face twisted with a grimace. "I'm...not sure," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I've come in contact with far too many false prophecies and nampy-pampy legends and such, that I'm not sure what I believe in anymore. What does that have to do with Hermione?"

"Well that depends, Harry. What does Hermione have to do with Voldemort?"

"Nothing!" Harry said sharply. "He's never even met her! He doesn't know anything about her, and he has absolutely no reason to hurt her-_ever__!"_

_"_Ah, it would seem that way, wouldn't it? But we would do well to remember that nothing is ever as it seems. Hermione is in grave danger, and she must remember that before she takes a step forward, she must be sure to look at her feet."

"Wait, what does that mean?" Harry bellowed at Dumbledore's retreating figure. "You can't just go around saying things like that and then not defining them in context!"

Dumbledore froze, turning to face him again with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Next time you do see Miss Granger, be sure to tell her, as a wise man once said, that it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

"_What does that even mean?" _Harry roared, running after the man, but just as he reached the spot that Dumbledore stood, he was gone. Harry curse, kicking a rock into the pond. "What a load of-"

"Harry, dear! Time for dinner!"

Momentarily distracted, Harry stared out past the fences of the Burrow, out into the vast openness beyond the safety of his home, before he turned and made his way back into the house.

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><p><strong>AN: Alright, so ya'll are probably like. "Que? I waited a whole 6 months for this?" Lo siento, I'm sorry! I just had to throw a little Dumbles in there, and you know I love my HP, so I thought some interaction between them would be good. I really had fun making fun of Dumbledore's vague-ness. But no worries, I'm gonna do another chapter today!**

**As I reread this, I realized my writing is suuuper rusty, but I'll get back into the groove of it. I promise! Please don't lose faith!**

**Mahalo!**

**:)**


	16. Ring Around the Rosie

**A/N: Okay, staring at this blank document, its pretty obvious to me: I**'**ve got absolutely no clue what I'm doing...but ya'll seem to like it, so I'll keep doing it;) Make sure to review the last chapter, even tho I put it up literally like 5 minutes ago. I'm trying to make up for your update deprivation, which is entirely my fault. I'll never forgive myself :/**

**I think I'm gonna make this chapter...action packed. And long. Because frankly the last chapter was entirely to short to make up for 6 months of neglect...I've become one of the authors that annoy me, the kind that don't update forever. I'm working on.**

**Okay, enough of my rambling. Let's get it started!**

**I can warn some of you now: There will be readers who do not like this chapter. It happens. I understand. Try not to flame. Gracias.**

**Disclaimer: Ya'll know wazzup...no es mine. Es J. K Rowling's. J.K Rowling tengo Harry Potter. ...Sorry, getting in touch with my inner Latina;)**

**Okay okay okay, without further interruption: El capitulo quince!**

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><p>Chapter Fifteen:<p>

Ring Around the Rosie

She remembered how they would sit in the library after a long day of classes. Alone, in their own little secluded corner. Nobody ever came back there. It was just a little table stuffed between a dusty bookcase and the wall that separated the library from the restricted section. She remembered how she would read something aloud from her book that she thought was stupid or comical, and he would send her a smirk. It was the smirk that got her. It was slow and private, something that seemed to be reserved for somewhere much more intimate. Like the bedroom, for example.

She remembered how, when they were walking to classes, or to lunch, or to their respective dorms at night, how sometimes their fingers would brush, as if they were going to hold hands, but she would immediately yank her hand away and busy herself with her hair, or fiddling with the buttons on her shirt, and that smirk-the same smirk-would curl his lips upwards and he would look straight forward, having enough grace to give her blush time to fade.

She especially remembered the curve of his face against the palm of her hand. The sharpness of his cheekbones, the angularity of his jaw. Though she'd never admit it aloud, she liked when he "forgot" to shave, and she could feel the roughness of his stubble against her fingertips, the dark shadow it cast across his face, making him look less like a boy, and more like a man.

There was hardly time to contemplate these thoughts at Hogwarts-it would've been too much for her sanity-but here, lying in her bed at Malfoy Manor, she could not help but let her mind wander to the length of his fingers, his hands, so large, even when he was younger. Or that one night, when they were fourteen, and they had decided to sneak out and go swimming in the lake, and she remembered watching as the muscles in his back rippled in the moonlight, so developed for someone so young. She remembered that that had been she had first felt attracted to him.

And even before, she remembered the comfort he had shown her when her "mother" passed away, how he had held her in such away that she only ever remembered a loved one holding her. It wasn't even that she was naive enough to think that he loved her, but...it was close enough, right?

The more and more she saw of the memories, the closer she came to realizing that it was going to come down to one decision, one final choice:

Harry...

Or Tom.

And this scared her more than anything she had witnessed, more than anything she had seen over the past few days. Harry was, regardless of any blood relations, her brother, through and through. She had vowed to stand by him, fight by him, die by him, no matter what happened, no matter how treacherous the waters got. And she had never even considered breaking that vow. She had never even contemplated turning her back on Harry. Which showed exactly how devoted to him she was. Hermione had never considered herself a particularly brave person, but when it came to this war, she was not thinking about how dangerous it was guarenteed to get. She was thinking about a boy so pure that he_ did_ _not deserve to die_.

So this should've been easy. She should not have been searching for ways to have them both. Not all of them, of course. There were parts of Tom that she would not miss, should she have to lose them. His obvious eagerness for spilt blood, for war and for grief. He wanted power, so much power that it could consume him completely.

But there were parts of Tom that she wanted to keep, to hide in a little of box and store in safety forever. The fire in his eyes whenever he would debate in classes over werewolf rights. The expression of utter content whenever the house elves served his favorite delicacy for desert, Cinnamon Cobbler Crumble. The reluctant grin when she or Abraxas told a clever joke. The quirk of the eyebrow whenever he was confused. The purse of his lips whenever he was annoyed. The crease of the forehead whenever he was thinking too hard-

Okay, so maybe she had him memorized a little _too _well.

But one thing was for certain. She knew there were parts of Tom that she couldn't bear to lose-that would kill her to lose. Her hysteria mounted and her mind frantically searched for a way to come out of this predicament unscathed. She was horrified to find that she was sobbing-a quite loudly-and even more horrified when she realized that she was crying for him.

And him alone.

Like a whisper of a shadow, she felt his presence suddenly in her room, as though her thoughts had beckoned him. She didn't look up, though. She did not have the gall to let him see her tears. She heard the whisper of his feet against the floor as he moved towards her bed and felt the mattress sink under his weight. She still did not meet his gaze, even when she felt two long, pale fingers under her chin, tilting her head upwards.

"_Hermion__e." _he breathed, and only then did she look up, for that was not a high, cold, inhuman hiss but a deep, velvety purr. That belonging to a young man.

"_Hermione," _He repeated, and she gazed into the dark brown eyes that had become her haven for five years. She stumbled back on the bed, tightening her sheets around her as he crawled up after her. She blinked as she realized what must be happening.

"Don't!" she said sharply, but her voice trembled tellingly. "You...you _can't _do this to me...my...my mind can't tell the difference. How...how did you do this?"

He stopped, hovering over her slightly, and blinked slowly. "I _am _Tom."

"No you're not," she said quickly, evasively. "You're Lord Voldemort...you're a murderer."

"You're telling yourself that," he said quickly, boxing her in against the headboard with his arms. "Hey, c'mon..." She closed her eyes, tears slipping between her tightly scrunched eyelids, her hands so tight around the sheets that her knuckles were white.

"You _can't _do this to me." She repeated. "It's not _fair." _

"It's just Tom," he swore. "I wouldn't hurt you-you know that." Again, he brought two fingers under her chin, drawing her face towards his. "You trust me, remember? After all we've been through."

Hermione sighed against his lips, allowing herself to be molded against him as he lay them down on the bed. "How is this possible?" She murmured against his mouth. "Don't tell me you actually are Lord Voldemort and you got a little randy, so you popped in some Polyjuice potion and decided to come have your way with me?"

He blinked, staring in shock at her. "The 90's have warped your innocence."

"Not at all," she replied with a smirk. "My best friends are boys-I know how your minds work."

He frowned, curling his body around hers in a protective way, forming a sort of human cocoon as he buried his face in her neck. Hermione tried to force her body to resist, but could not help but shiver as he spoke into her skin. "I do not like the idea of you being around them al l the time. Tell me...did they ever attempt to...take advantage of you?"

Hermione yanked her face away to stare at him in shock. "Are you kidding me? Ron and Harry have got about as much experience with girls as a 6-year-old newspaper boy. And besides, they would never, _ever _even _think _of doing anything to hurt me. You've-I mean, _Tom-_- has taken advantage of me more times they they ever have or _will_."

He frowned, running his tongue along her jaw in an almost thoughtful way. She writhed beneath him in what she hoped..._prayed..._was disgust. "I've never taken advantage of you-"

"Tom-I mean, Voldemort-I mean..._whoever _you are, _stop! _This is sick, and wrong on _so _many levels. I shouldn't-I shouldn't even be within a ten-foot radius of you, I mean...Merlin, you're _old_."

At first he looked offended, but then mild humor slipped into his expression. "Technically, I'm immortal. Technically I haven't aged since I created my first horcrux, which _actually _makes you older than me, so, quite frankly my little mouse, you are _such _a cougar."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in horror. "How _dare _you? You _forced yourself _onto me!"

Tom chuckled, burying himself deeper into her bed. "Whatever you say, little serpent." He sighed, rolling so that they were both lying on their sides, facing each other. "Very well, though. I shall not force myself upon you tonight..." He swept a strand of her hair from her eyes. "Tonight, I only wish to be with you."

Her heart gave a very hard, very painful pang then, and she wished, regardless of all her denials, that he meant those, those heart-wrenching, soul-turning words, out of love.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the next morning to find her legs tangled with Tom's, his head resting on her chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The heat of his body against hers was making her very warm indeed, but it was not particularly unpleasant. Whatever he had done: Polyjuice, rejuvenation drought, <em>whatever<em>, it had certainly not underdeveloped his body: it was just as it had been during their fifth year. She felt the planes of his stomach and chest against her, felt the hard muscles of his arms and his back underneath her hands, and felt the solid strength of his thighs resting on either side of her own. Yes, it was undeniable that there were parts of him that Hermione had missed.

She slipped out of bed, pulling on a robe over her pajamas, and headed downstairs towards the kitchen, stopping on the way to run a comb through her hair. As she stared at her reflection and saw the purple mark marring her cheek, she made a mental note to talk to Tom about exactly how to treat a woman.

The kitchen was empty, but the house elves must've been in, because a fresh copy of the _Daily __Prophet _sat on the counter top. Grabbing a quick cup of coffee and a chair, Hermione skimmed through the newspaper, paying careful attention to the section devoted to Hogswarts and the students. She stopped when she saw a familiar name.

_...still missing, and best friends Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are starting to panic. _

_"It would be much more comforting just to know, yeah?" says sixth year, Ronald Weasley. "The fact that she could or could not be out there, may or may not be alive, is what's really freaking us out. I don't know what's taking Aurors so long, and frankly, I'm quite tired of waiting."_

_Parents of the missing girl, John and Sofia Granger, are currently being healed from Petrification at St. Mungo's, and should be out of the hospital by some time next week. However, we doubt it will be a happy awakening when they learn of the absence of their one and only daughter. _

_Harry Potter, the Chosen One and Boy-Who-Lived, has a specific message for the brains of the Golden Trio:_

_"Well, frankly I'm worried sick about Mione, and I'm not particularly keen on going back to school until she's found, but a very wise friend of mine wanted me to relay a message, so Hermione, if you're reading this, just remember that is does not do to d_

_well on dreams and forget to live. I dunno what that means, but, if it brings you back to us, then God help me it's all I've got."_

_No word yet from any of the Hogwarts staff..._

Hermione felt numb as she set down her coffee, Harry's pale, grief-stricken face that had been pasted on the newspaper cover still swimming in the front of her thoughts. The room suddenly felt very cold, and she pulled her robe more tightly around her body.

_This is it_.

Her brain torpidly registered that this was a turning point. To be or not to be. Her mind wandered up to the boy-man, she realized-sleeping in her bedroom upstairs. How could she have been so blind? It was not a hard decision-_choose Harry_. The boy that _deserved _to live. Not the man that claimed his right to. There was no "having both ways." It would be one or the other. And in her heart she knew which one it had to be.

_So why would her body refuse to let her act on it_?

**You love him,** said that voice which she had not heard for quite some time. **You'll never say it aloud, and you fool yourself into thinking that its a lie when you say it to him, but you _love _him. _Heart-wretchingly, guiltlessly, painfully, passionately, till death do you part_.**

"I love him," she repeated aloud, and the strength of the words hit her full-force. She collapsed onto her knees, curling into a ball as, for what hadn't been the first time in several days, she cried.

Hermione had never believed in God, but at that moment, inside her own head, she screamed at the heavens above, filled with rage and emotion and _so. much. pain. _

_WHY? WHY MUST I LOVE A MAN WHO WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LOVE ME BACK? WHY AM I TO LOVE A MAN CONDEMNED TO THE MOST HORRIBLE OF FATES? A MAN CONDEMNED TO WALK THE FIRES OF HELL IN CHAINS FOREVER? WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO LOVE SUCH A MAN?_

Such a wonderful, terrible man.

Her heart raced against her rib cage as she pulled herself onto her feet. She could feel it bubbling inside her. _Bile. Revulsion. Self-hatred. _Just like when she was a little girl.

But for so many different reasons.

She knew that whatever it came down to, it would either be giving up happiness forever, or the most selfish decision she had ever made in her entire life. If she gave up Tom and fought alongside Harry, she doubted she could ever find a man to match. But if she abandoned Harry and stood by Tom, she would be throwing away all of her morals, all of her faithful friends, and above all, _Harry_, her brother, for one selfish love, one love that she _did not, should not desire_.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione slammed the newspaper onto the counter and stormed out of the kitchen. She was unsurprised to find the front door unlocked, and she turned the handle easily, swinging open both doors and inhaling deeply and the morning air hit her lungs. She sucked in another breath, and another, until she was consumed by the scent of freedom.

And then she screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys! So, here's another chapter. Weird way to end it, I know, but I'm going to start on the next one tonight too while I'm on a role, and just keep writing till I fall asleep. I hope you guys enjoyed! Inevitably, there will be some people who didn't, because of some factors that came into play here, but no flames, por favor! Believe it or not, I thiiiink, unless I change my mind, we are actually nearing the end. Very close in fact, as in, less than five chapters (Altho, you know me, if ya'll ask for an epilogue, I'll haaave to do it;)) But yep! Almost there! As ya'll can probably guess, the last few chapters correspond with the song, so this one was Ring Around the Rosie. The last chapter will be "We All Fall Down" Doesn't sound very happy, does it? Hehe...we'll see;) This is actually the first time I've contemplated NOT doing a happy ending! But we'll see! Review and let me know what you think!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**lots of love~**


	17. Pocket Full of Posies

**A/N: Ello again! So here's the sixteenth chapter.I'm suuuuper excited to see how you guys continue to respond to the stories (despite some weird reviews?). Anyway, fair warning: This chapter involves Harry-Hermione-Ron brother/sister love, mushy-gushy Voldies, and obnoxious Dumbles. You have been warned, my pupils;)**

**Anyway, i hope ya'll enjoy this, even though it took me a while to get a handle on how to write it exactly, I think I finally got it to where I sorta kinda like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own...**

* * *

><p>Chapter Sixteen:<p>

Pocket Full of Posies

"Yes, yes we've got everything covered! No, no! No knicks, cuts, scars, scratches, bruises-well, one bruise, but that's much better than we could've anticipated. They didn't even torture her! No, we didn't cover the medical finances, there _were _none!" Harry rolled his eyes in frustration and covered the mouthpiece of the telephone. "If he had half as many brain cells as freckles he'd be twice as easy to deal with."

Hermione let out a giggle, shaking her head in exasperation as Harry continued the phone call. "What? No I didn't just insult you! Psshh! That's ridiculous! What you _heard _was me asking Hermione if she wanted some tea." She bit back another laugh. "What? You want to talk to her-no, no, you really shouldn't...she's in a very fragile state...can't even walk...well, I know I _did _say before that she was fine, but maybe I was under-exaggerating the situation a bit-"

"Oh, give me the phone, Harry!"

"Alright, alright."

"Yes? Hello, Ron! No, stop it! I'm _fine! _No, really! Don't be silly, you aren't coming home from Romania any earlier than planned. _No! _You all need to visit Charlie-you haven't seen him in a while, I'm sure he feels neglected...Well, I know you haven't seen me either, but-"

Harry smiled as he listened to his two friends banter, once again thanking God or Allah or whoever had decided to give him back Hermione. It had been a miracle-it must've been partly wish magic that they even heard her screaming. Malfoy Manor was nearly in the middle of nowhere, and even though they asked him, to this day, Harry could never explain to the reporters how he had located her.

"_Call it...brother's intuition." _He had told them.

But something was still bothering him. When they had called the Aurors to investigate Malfoy Manor, it had been very obvious that the Death Eaters had all cleared out as quickly as possible, but as they left the estate, before the portkey had taken them back to the Ministry, Harry had turned once more towards the eerie manor, and could've sworn that, from the second floor, he and seen a pale figure standing at the window, his familiar blood red eyes watching, brooding and calculating, as if waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

He hadn't told anyone else about this of course. He didn't want to frighten Hermione-after all, he could only imagine the things they had done to her that she didn't seem ready to talk about yet. What Harry couldn't figure out was why they had kept a Muggleborn girl, intelligent as she was, alive and healthy for that substantial of an amount of time.

"He's lost it," Hermione declared, slamming down the phone and jerking Harry from his thoughts. But he quickly put on an easy-going smile.

"Figured it would only be a matter of time." She smile widely, and Harry felt his heart pulsing furiously. How could she be hiding it this well? Hermione didn't know how to lie! She couldn't deceive someone if you paid her! His easy smile slipped into a sadder one, and he drew her into his arms, cradling her into his chest. She seemed to wince at the contact, and it took her a moment to react to his embrace. A horrible, sickening thought suddenly struck him. He drew back, grasping her shoulders in an urgent way.

"Hermione...while you were at the manor...none of the Death Eaters..well...none of them...touched you...did they?"

_Why did her eyes flash like that! _Harry's stomach gave a great lurch. Her next words did nothing to comfort him. "No of course not! Don't be silly Harry! Honestly...why would you even think that?"

Harry felt bile rise in his throat and he gritted his teeth, doing his best to keep his temper. "Hermione...which one was it? Tell me, and I'll _kill _him."

"No, Harry don't be silly-"

"_Which one?" _He hissed. "Was it that Lestrange man? Dolohov? Tell me it wasn't Greyback!"

"Harry, please!" Hermione said loudly, determined to break the uncomfortable silence. "None of them...touched me...its not...it wasn't like that..."

"Do you swear to me, Hermione?" His gaze was so intense that she did not dare look away.

"I sw-swear." He must not of her the way her voice broke, because he nodded affirmatively and trudged into the kitchen, not sparing her a second glance. Hermione sunk into a chair, running a trembling hand through her bushy hair. She felt guilty for lying to Harry, but how could she possible explain that it had been Lord Voldemort himself who had touched her, and that it hadn't been entirely involuntary.

"Hermione, darling, I took the liberty of getting all of your school things from Diagon Alley. I'm sure you just want these last few days to relax, poor dear." The sympathy in Mrs. Weasley's expression was revolting.

"We've got Aurors stationed on every corner of Hogwarts," Remus had told her. "There's absolutely no reason to be afraid-you're perfectly safe."

"Miss Granger, I wished to speak with you about your duties as a Prefect. After all you've been through this summer, I thought it best to relieve you of such a burden. I want you to be able to relax and focus entirely on your studies and getting properly healthy again." Hermione recalled the rage and betrayal she had felt as she handed Professor McGonagall her Prefect badge.

And even boarding the Hogwarts express, she felt a certain detatchment from her fellow students. As she climbed the steps and dragged her trunk down the hall, she peered uninterestedly into the passing compartments, searching for a reason why, _why _she suddenly felt like none of this even mattered.

**Because it doesn't, kid! You know that, and _he _knows you know that. Don't expect him to let go of his treasure so easily.**

_He doesn't have a choice. I'm safe. I'm with Harry now...at Hogwarts...where I belong._

Ron had nearly attacked Hermione as he greeted her, and she laughed harder than she had in a while as he captured her in a tight embrace. "Merlin, Mione...I know I'm mean to you, but if you ever give us a scare like that again...I'll...I'll-"

"Relax, Ron!" Hermione giggled. "I'm _fine_. You didn't even need to worry." _Lie._

The three of them got caught up in their usual train routine-Harry and Ron involved in a competitive game of exploding snap, and Hermione immersed deeply in a book. But she couldn't help but notice, every once in a while, either Harry or Ron would look up and throw her a glance, whether it be of sympathy, worry, or gratefulness.

It made Hermione sick.

She wasn't even focusing on what she was reading, really. Her mind was far too occupied by indecision. Which shouldn't have been the case. She was with Harry, wasn't she? What more did she have to think about?

The sound of someone clearing their throat directed all of their attentions to the doorway. Hermione's lips fell apart in shock.

"Hello, darlings. Have a good summer?" Draco Malfoy strode confidently into their compartment, plopping himself down next to Ron and slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I know I did. Full of...adventure." He winked at Hermione and she glared fiercely at him in return, throwing a pointed look at his arm around her shoulder.

"Erm...Malfoy?" This came from Harry, who looked more uncomfortable than angry. "You...erm...you feeling alright? Bit ill?

"No, don't be silly, Potter, my friend! I'm feeling lovely! I was only wondering if I could have a word with little lovely Miss Granger?"

Ron's face turned to stone. "Yeah, over my dead body. Don't think we missed the fact that she was found at _your _place. Whether or not you had anything to do with it, I trust you just about as far as I can kick you!"

"Its 'throw you', Ron," Harry muttered, never taking his eyes off of Malfoy.

"It's alright, Ronald," Hermione said softly, and the three of them turned to look at her. "I'll speak with him." She stood and moved out of the compartment, Draco following. Ron was still sputtering with rage.

"But, Mione!" he called after her. "He's Death Eater spawn!"

Draco whirled in the doorway, his eyes set so narrowly on Ron that the taller boy winced. "I'd be careful, Weasel, unless you want to have to back up those words." He drew his shoulders back, looking down his nose at the two of them. "Besides, I doubt Granger will want to be around you dirty-veined mongrels much longer."

Hermione was waiting for him in the hall, and he led her down the corridor to an empty compartment. As she sat down, he closed, locked, and warded the doors. She watched him silently with pursed lips.

"Is that _really _necessary?"

He turned to face her with a serious expression. "Hermione...you're running out of time."

She flinched. "Don't say that to me. Don't you _dare _say that to me."

"I'm trying to warn you. I don't know what you're playing at, but you need to get it through you head: You aren't any safer at Hogwarts from him then you would be at Malfoy Manor. He's going to find you, Hermione. Its his priority."

Hermione let out a snarl of frustration, running a hand through her thick mane. "_Why, _though? He'd do just as good killing me. He's plenty powerful without me, and that's all this is about, power." When Draco avoided her eyes, Hermione zeroed in on his face. "It _is _only about power, Draco."

"Perhaps."

"_Draco__!" _

"Alright, alright! Well...I mean...I know he does realize that having you by his side would automatically make him more powerful, and before, that is what it was about. He had you captured and brought to Malfoy Manor to make certain that he would be the most powerful being in existence."

"But...?"

"But...now I think its become something a bit more than that. He...he's done what he's always been most afraid to do...he's become a bit attached to having you around. And now that you've seen the memories, he's remembering what it was like, back in his younger days, when you two were close, and...and he wants that back."

Hermione peered suspiciously at him. "How do you know all this?"

He gave her dubious look. "Do you _honestly _think, Granger, that I would be telling you all of this if he didn't want you to know it?"

She felt heat flood her face. Her body felt like it was on fire. Surely, he couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he was saying?

Draco's lips curled into a sneer as he took in her red face. "See...he still affects you. Even _you _can't deny that."

Hermione sighed, picking at a lose string on her robes. "I'm not trying to deny it anymore. I know that I have feelings for him...feelings that I can't control...but...just because I'm ready to admit them to myself, doesn't mean I'm ready to admit them to Dumbledore...or Ron...or Harry."

He frowned, sweeping a few strands of fallen hair from his face. "You love him."

Hermione smiled. "I'm feeling a sense of Deja Vu."

He chuckled, the first genuine sound of amusement she had ever heard from him. "Don't underestimate me, Granger. I'm very clear on whose side I'm on, but...it would be a pity to see you make a choice that you'd come to regret."

"I can't abandon my cause for my own selfish desires."

The dark look he gave her was far too knowing to make her comfortable, and even after he had opened the door and left the room, his words still resounded heavily in her ears.

"I think you'll find that you can."

* * *

><p>His words still played in her head even that evening at dinner, and she could not even draw enough energy to pay attention to the first year's sorting. Harry and Ron chattered mindlessly beside her, and not for the first time, she felt angered by the insubstantiality of their ramblings.<p>

_**Fools! Do they not understand that we are currently in the middle of a war? This is why we will not win-we are being led by a boy with about as much dependability as a squid.**_

Hermione blinked at her harsh thoughts. Surely she didn't think that. Surely that was just either Voldemort or Duerre's presence in her mind. She loved Harry, dearly. And she had faith in him.

The applause of the student body snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked towards the head table, where Dumbledore was standing in front, preparing to give a speech, as always.

**_If he spent half as much time on actually fighting Voldemort as he did on running his mouth, we wouldn't be in this mess._**

"Students! Teachers! Pigeons and mollusks alike," some of the younger students looked confused at this, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Welcome back to another glorious year at Hogwarts! As you know, we are extending the security this year, and we will have-"

_CLASH!_

A loud clattered echoed throughout the hall, and the room was quite suddenly flushed in darkness, save for the moonlight streaming through the tall glass windows. The silence was tangible, and Hermione felt her own heart pounding in her chest, though, in fear of what, she did not know.

"_Hogwarts."_

That voice alone was enough to stop the blood in her veins. She looked towards the ceiling, where it seemed to be coming from, but saw only a stretch of midnight black sky.

"_Do not fear me." _She finally spun around, realizing where the voice was coming from. Through the Great Hall door, a tall, cloaked figure was striding. His step was leisurely, as if he wasn't breaking and entering through one of the most secure building in all of Britain. "_I am...a friend, of sorts." _The students in the center of the hall scrambled to back away from him, and though a shadow was cast over his face, his lips were clearly smirking. The echo seemed to leave the room and his voice returned to normal. "If you have anything to fear, it is the man standing before you."

And that was when Hermione was truly afraid.

"Were you planning on telling them, Dumbledore, her..._friends_, what truly transpired at the manor?" Harry must have realized what he was talking about, because he turned to face Hermione, eyes wide and confused. "Were you planning on informing them of the recent..._enlightenment _that our dear Miss Granger has experienced?"

Hermione felt the blood rush to her face as hundreds of eyes landed on her.

"But perhaps you did not mind feeding them petty lies, or...even so...the most consequential lie of all...I wonder if you felt guilty deceiving her. Because I'm sure she resented you for it. Am I correct...Miss Duerre?"

For a moment, the entire student body seemed confused as to whom he was speaking to, but with his gaze directly on her, unwavering and unmerciful, it did not take long for them to figure it out."

"Hermione?" Harry said. She looked at him, and the uncertainty in his eyes, in his voice, stung her directly.

"I'm sorry, Harry. We have some explaining to do."

Dumbledore seemed to hear this, or understand her at least, because he addressed the rest of the hall. "Prefects, lead your housemates to their dormitories. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape...please follow me."

The three Professors met Lord Voldemort in the middle of the hall, who was watching the three students that were left argue with unabashed amusement.

"I'm just saying, Hermione...if you had explained everything when you got back, it could've made all of this _a lot _easier, on the lot of us!"

"And I understand that, Ronald, but-"

"What _I _want to know, is why the _Hell _Lord Voldemort is standing in the middle of the Great Hall, and none of us are doing a damn thing about it."

Hermione frowned, her brow raising quizzically as she turned to face the Dark Lord in question. "Yes, I'm quite interested as well to know how you got in without alerting the Aurors."

His mischievous smirk sent shivers down her spine. "Its quite complicated magic...I shall teach you sometime, though I'm not entirely sure you'd be able to keep up."

She arched a brow in the same way she had seen him do so many times."You're doubting my talents?"

"Never."

Harry was sputtering incoherently, looking between the two of them with a mixture of disbelief and shock. "What-Why-How the-How do you to know each other?"

"We go back," Hermione told him without taking her eyes off Tom.

"Why don't we all sit down?" Dumbledore suggested simply. Hermione could not help but shoot a scathingly glance at the man.

"Yes, lets. And then you can ever-so-cleverly explain to Ron and Harry what a fraud you are!"

Hermione!" Harry looked aghast. "Don't speak to him like that!"

Dumbledore looked weary. "I'm afraid whatever animosity Miss Granger feels towards me is entirely warranted. Now, shall I explain?"

As Dumbledore told the story, Hermione felt exhaustion sweep over her. She watched with half-interested as Harry and Ron's facial expressions changed from disbelief, to confusion, to anger, to suspicion, to sympathy, but she found herself caring less and less. Her friends were her friends, through and through, but she could not change her decisions that had been made in the past.

Throughout the entire time, Hermione felt Tom's eyes burning in search for hers, but she refused to look at him. She knew the moment she did would be the moment that she crashed and burned. She didn't know how he had done it, but he had come to Hogwarts once again looking like Tom Riddle, not Lord Voldemort, and frankly, it scared it to no end. She was supposed to be able to separate the two of them, but when he came here, looking like _that_, she couldn't separate anything anymore.

At one point, Ron had jumped to his feet, exclaiming in anger, and Hermione had slammed her fists down on the table and stormed out of the room, seeking solitude and letting Dumbledore continue his story without her.

It wasn't fair! How could Ronald presume to judge her just like that? He had no right to decide where she had been wrong. He didn't know _half _of what she had been through.

She felt a hand on her back and jumped. Tom chuckled, sinking down in the grass beside her. "Your buffoons continue to argue in there." A surge of anger erupted in her when he insulted her friends, but she could not find the strength to reprimand him. She sighed, leaning into his touch as he swept a hand across her neck, moving her hair and leaving her neck bare. "The Potter boy remains loyal. He defends your actions when no one else does."

Hermione smiled "Because I would do the same for him-I _have _done the same for him-he knows this."

"I would be even more loyal." She frowned, turning away from him. She shivered, however, when he buried his face into the skin of her neck, curling a tendril of hair around his finger, gentle, yet insistent. "Tell me, what can the Potter boy give you that I cannot?"

She turned to him, her face set with determination. "Harry can give me love. You know that you could never love me."

Was it her imagination, or had there been a flash of pain in his eyes. He looked away from her sharply, resting his arms on his knees and directing his gaze out across the lake, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. She felt momentarily guilty, but brushed that off as Duerre's guilt, and not her own. She did not however, hesitate to lean her head against his shoulder.

_Not because I'm guilty_, she insisted to herself. _I'm...I'm tired...that's it. And he's...he's here, isn't he? He cared enough to come._

She heard Tom's voice distantly, but his next words made her ears perk up. "I cannot say that I love you, Hermione..."

A gust of wind swept across the grounds, making the trees bend and rippling the water of the lake, making the reflection of the moon shiver on its surface. The world was silent tonight.

"But I'd like to."

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><p><strong>AN: Alright, so there's chapter sixteen! Relatively, long, if I do say so myself;) I'm really getting back into this, and I hope my writing doesn't suck as much as it seems to when I'm reading it over. Still kinda guestimating how I'm going to finish this off, but with only like 3 or 4 chapters left, I guess I should get a move on, huh? ;)**

**So umm...the ulterior meaning of this chapter title, "Pocket Full of Posies"...well, as most of you know, it comes from that demented nursery rhyme, and to me it meant that Hermione was using Tom's "good qualities", his intelligence, his sarcastic humor, his comfort, to help her deny and cover up for his crimes.**

**I hope you all really enjoyed, and I'll get crackin on the next chapter very soon! Let me know it ya'll have any ideas, requests that you want me to put into the story, or anything really! I love you all soooooo much! :D**

**Thanks for reading!**

**lots of love~**


	18. Ashes, Ashes

**A/N: Good morning readers! I hope ya'll enjoyed last chapter! I got some very positive reviews, so that always inspiring:) I'm afraid I'm at a teensy little bl****ock right now, but I will do absolutely the best I can to push through it and give you guys what you deserve:)**

**So I suppose this chapter has to be a big one, since its got the title in it and everything. I will do my best to make it the most monumental thing you have ever read...hopefully...hehe:) I almost started crying a little bit when I typed the "Chapter Seventeen: Ashes, Ashes" because I just can't believe that its been almost a year since I've published this, and I'm sooooo eternally grateful for all the faithful readers and wonderful reviews! I couldn't never made it to the second to last chapter without all of you! **

**And so, without further ado...THE chapter**

**Disclaimer: HP=not mine. **

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><p>Chapter Seventeen:<p>

Ashes, Ashes

_I don't know why I'm scared_

_Cause I've been here before_

_Every feeling, every worry_

_I've imagined it all_

_You'll never know, if you never try_

_To forget your past_

_And simply be mine_

_~Adele; One and Only_

Hermione heard a hiss as the fire in the common room stuttered and sizzled out. Harry discarded is empty cup of tea and plopped down beside her on the sofa. Ron was still pacing in front of the burnt-out fire, and he would not meet her eyes.

"Was she much like you?" Harry asked finally, slinging an arm around the back of the sofa turning his body to face her. "Duerre, I mean."

"Yes, I know who you meant," Hermione said softly, staring at where the flames had been dancing just moments before. "And yes, she was very much like me. She loves books, ardently, and spent a fair amount of time in the library. She was good at problem-solving, and looked a bit like me."

"A bit?" Harry asked in surprise.

Hermione's smile was self-deprecating. "She was prettier. She took more time to look pretty. She wasn't self-obsessed mind you...but...she actually slept at night...and talked to people. She didn't raise her hand all the time in class, but new the answer to every question when she was called on. She talked to girls and didn't rant about saving house-elves. And she was pretty."

"Well, you're pretty, Hermione," Ron said, rather awkwardly. Hermione let out a little giggle, but it sounded more like a sob. The two boys looked rather confused, and she looked away from them, out the window. What they didn't understand about this was that, Duerre was simply _more likable _than Hermione had _ever _been. She knew how to associate with people in a way that _made _them want to be around her.

_But you can't be totally opposite of that, _Duerre reminded her. _Because he still wants you, even here, even now. _

Hermione pondered over this. She continued to think about even as she laid down for bed, and the next morning, it was fresh on her mind. Was she really that much different than Duerre, or had she already been witnessing the other girl's personality so much that they had already exchanged characteristics? She didn't _feel _any different. But as she, Harry, and Ron made their way towards Potions that morning, she couldn't help but wonder how _much _like Duerre she really was.

"Good morning students!" She blinked blearily at Professor Slughorn's chipper voice. _Too early_. "Welcome to sixth-year potions! For those of you who don't know, I am Professor Slughorn! And I am most excited to be instructing you all this year!" His eyes scanned the room and nearly popped out of his head when he saw Harry. "Harry, m'boy! Good summer, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. Very...interesting." Hmm, the man seemed to know Harry personally. She'd have to ask him about that later.

"Good, good! Now them, today, we're going to start with a simple one, yes? Can anyone tell me what..._this _... is?" He held up a very small vial filled with a golden substance that almost seemed to be glowing. The class was silent.

"Granger, I do believe that that would be your cue to raise your hand and begin jumping up and down in your seat like some kind of blithering idiot." The Slytherins began laughing uproariously, but Hermione saw the humor in Draco's eyes, so she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Now, now, settle down! Very well, then, Miss Gr-" Slughorn's eyes fell on her, and the affect was almost comical. His tiny, beady little eyes bugged and his mouth fell right open .

"I know she's an awful sight, but honestly..."

"That's enough, Draco," Hermione said, mock-glaring at him.

"Sorry, Hermione, darling." There were many gasps throughout the room, and the Slytherins' laughter cut off abruptly.

"Miss...Granger? Did you say?" Slughorn asked, still looking very pale. "No...no relation to the Duerre family? But...but no...of course not...they-she died very young, they say."

"No, I trust not, sir," she said softly, looking directly into Slughorn's eyes. "Besides, I'm a..." A small, private smirk curled her lips, alien to her face, but familiar to her eyes. "I'm a Muggleborn."

"Of course," Slughorn said slowly, seeming to regain a little color. "Of course...that would be impossible, after all."

The rest of the class seemed to pass by rather slowly for Hermione, although she found it amusing every time Slughorn looked at her and he regained the expression that of one who had just seen a ghost. By the time the class was over, both Hermione and Draco were nearly in tears from holding back laughter. Their voices sounded very loud exiting the dungeon, and Hermione was still giggling by the time they reached the first floor.

"You'd think someone would have warned him," she told Draco.

"Apparently not," the blonde boy said, smirking.

Harry and Ron watched them silently, annoyed and baffled.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, ferret?" Ronald finally snapped, huffing rather loudly when Hermione playfully swatted Draco's arm. The two turned to look at the Gryffindors, seeming rather surprised.

"Oh, yes, I suppose my class is in the other direction. "I'll see you around, Duerre."

"That's _Miss _Duerre to you, Malfoy."

"Uh-huh."

Hermione smiled, shaking her head as he walked away, and turned to face Harry and Ron's identical expressions of annoyance. "Oh. Hey. How's it going?"

"Very funny."

"I'm not laughing," she said evasively, brushing past the two of them. She was nearly stomping by the time she made it to Transfiguration, the two of them still trying to catch up to her. By the time they reached the classroom, Hermione had already found a seat, directly between Lavender Brown and Terry Boot. Still grumbling, they reluctantly placed themselves in the front of the classroom.

In all honesty, Hermione _did _feel guilty about her behavior, but she was also annoyed at Ron and Harry, and how they thought she could just automatically transition from having spent sixteen years with Slytherins to being back around their raucous laughter and how they had that disgusting habit of "wearing their hearts on their sleeves."

Alright, so maybe she did have a tiny bit of Gryffindor in her.

That evening, Hermione drew her curtains shut very tightly around her bed. She had actually been getting along better with Lavender and Parvati, but tonight, she only wanted to be alone. She buried herself deep in her sheets, even ignoring the book she had been reading, and ducked her head under the covers, so that she was submerged in darkness.

It was quite a while before the girls stopped talking. They discussed hair, and makeup, and boys, and then finally, the lights flickered off and they fell asleep. But still Hermione lay buried beneath the covers, silent, barely breathing against the patterns of the quilt, body frozen and mind numb.

Suddenly the covers were ripped away from her and a hand covered her mouth to stifle her scream. She peered into the darkness, attempting to make out the face of her attacker. She heart a nearly silent, "_Lumos" _and her bed was flooded with light.

She stared, wide-eyed, up at Tom Riddle, who was hovering inches above her. Her scream died in her throat and her body relaxed. He moved his hand away from her mouth and instead used it to stroke her hair away from her face, resting his weight on his knees and his elbow. "Hi," he breathed softly, and Hermione could've giggled. She had never heard him say something so simple, so straight-forward, and so empty of lies.

"Hi," she replied, blushing at the utter adoration that she could hear coating her voice. A brief smile flashed across his face before he scooped her into his arms, rolling them both over so that she was lying on top of him. "You...you frightened me."

"My apologies," he murmured, not sounding particularly sorry. "I had to see you."

"And you didn't think storming into the Great Hall tomorrow morning at breakfast would be a suitable follow-up to last nights performance?" she teased, her hand moving of its own accord to his hair. He chuckled, freely allowing her to run her fingers through his dark locks, nuzzling affectionately into her neck. The gesture almost made her cry.

"I was aiming for something a little more private, and...intimate."

Her body flushed and her eyes lowered, focusing on his mouth instead, so he didn't have to see the arrogance in those eyes, the triumph as he reveled in the simple truth.

_She wanted him_.

It was a terrifying thought, that regardless of whatever had happened, whatever he had done and even though she had ran from him, she desired him in a way that she had never before desired a man. She wanted those eyes on her, those lips on hers, those hands...

Perhaps it hadn't been the most intelligent idea to focus on his lips, those lips that were now smirking so knowingly, drawing her eyes back to his own. He tilted his head sideways, studying her. She felt heat flood her as his eyes wandered down her body, studying her callously, and without shame.

"You are _such _a woman."

His words surprised her, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. She momentarily doubted the truth of his statement; she was only a sixteen, nearly seventeen year old girl. And how could he possibly call her _womanly _when he spent most of his time in the company of women like Bellatrix and Narcissa, who were both gifted and voluptuous in their assets. She attempted to argue with his logic.

"I...don't be silly. I'm not any more of a woman than anyone who-" Her eyes shot open and her back arched as he clenched the back of her thigh, pressing her against him. And then she felt him.

_All _of him.

Her eyes dilated as she took in his victorious expression, and she mewled, trying to find more contact, any inch of his skin that wasn't pressed against her own. She could feel the hard, wiry muscles of his stomach beneath her and she pressed against him even more, searching for contact like some kind of wanton mistress.

"Ah, I knew she was in there," he whispered, grasping her backside rather roughly. "My little serpent." She growled in frustration, covering his lips with her own. He seemed momentarily surprised, but then responded enthusiastically, grinning against her mouth. He was once again however, when she reached between them and grasped him.

He ripped away from her mouth, staring at her. "Hermione-"

"I'm not in the mood for games tonight, Tommy." Her glare was enough to burn a hole through his head.

The seriousness of her tone aroused him even more. He flipped them once again and pinned her beneath him, making sure to press himself against her. She thought it was bad for her? She hadn't felt him in-what?-two weeks? It had been nearly _fifty-four _years since he had touched her. He didn't want to play any games tonight either.

And as he took her once again that night, in her dormitory with the curtains drawn, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time. He looked into her eyes that night as he made love to her-made love, not just shagged. And in that moment, he was certain that there was something much more to the two of them, more than either of them had ever been prepared for. And in that moment, he felt a surge of fear-genuine fear-because, for the life of him, he did not know what he wanted anymore.

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><p>Hermione was not surprised to wake up in an empty bed the next morning, but it did not particularly bother her. She had seem something in Tom's eyes last night, not anything she could put a name to, but something that had comforted her beyond anything any words could ever do. Classes passed slowly that day, but her mind was far off. The upcoming decision she had to make still weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she didn't feel the weight as much, almost as though someone was sharing the burden, instead of her having to hold it on her own.<p>

"Your hair looks pretty today," a voice breathed into her hair, and Hermione "smiled as she wrote her essay. Apparently Dumbledore was not the only one who could make himself invisible. Tom seemed to have taken to visiting her quite often. After looking around to make sure everyone else in the library was occupied, she answered him without looking away from her parchment.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Tommy, you are aware of that, aren't you?"

"Except maybe under your skirt."

Heat immediately flood her face and his chuckle tickled her skin. "No response? Have I rendered you speechless?"

She recovered quickly and said in a rather matter-of-fact tone, "Certainly not. That would be far too impressive of a feat. Beside, you can't get under a girl's skirt unless she lets you."

Tom seemed to be thinking for a moment. "Is that so? So if I were to touch you, right now, in the library," she felt a hand on her thigh, a hand that subtly slipped beneath her skirt and made her squirm, "With _everyone _watching..."

"_Tom!" _She gasped, trying not to writhe. "Tom, I'm serious, stop!" He chuckled again, withdrawing his hand from her skirt and placing his hands on her shoulders instead.

"Sorry, sorry." She glared in the direction of his voice at the utter lack of sincerity in his tone.

"Honestly, Tom!" she huffed. "What are you even doing in here?"

She felt his smile against the back of her neck. "I...well...I had some very important research to do, and I needed a quite environment," she rolled her eyes, and he must have noticed, because he wrapped his arms around her from behind and whispered, "Alright, alright, so _maybe _ I just couldn't wait to see you, alright." He huffed. "Lord, woman, make a man lose all of his pride."

She smiled, turned, and whispered, "Lets go to my room."

Hermione rolled up her essay and hastily stuffed it into her bag, gathering the last of her books before she set off towards the Gryffindor dormitory. It was quite a long journey, although not for all the usual reasons. The library was five floors from the Gryffindor dormitory, but nearly every other empty classroom they passed, Tom would shove her inside, press her against the wall and proceed to snog her senseless. When they finally did reach the common rooms, Hermione was happy to see them empty. Tom un-invisibled himself and followed her up to the dormitories.

"I never will understand how you get past those stairs," Hermione commented.

Tom arched a brow. "I'm blood brilliant, that's how."

She rolled her eyes, spreading out on her bed, yawning tiredly, and beckoning him over. He laid down next to her with his hands behind his head and his legs stretch out so that they were dangling off the edge of the bed. She turned to face him and simply curled up at his side, relishing in the warmth emanating from his body. "So, Tom?"

"Yes, mouse?"

She resisted the urge to call him out on the nickname. "Don't you have...oh, I dunno...Dark Lord-ly duties that you're currently skiving off?"

To her shock and amusement, a faint flush appeared on the Dark Lord's cheeks. "I...erm...yeah...well, I've currently got someone else covering them...erm...so.."

"So, you're skiving off." Hermione clarified. He mock-glared at her. When he didn't respond, she added tentatively, "To be with me."

It was interesting to watch the emotions flash across his face; First, anger and a cold desire to tell her off, second, confusion, as she watched him question himself, and third, a quiet acceptance of the truth.

"You've changed," she said quietly. He frowned adorably, and she brushed a few strands of dark hair from his pale face. "I can read you better. I can tell when you're angry, or happy, or just thinking. You...its like you're opening up to me."

"I'm not-I'm not opening up to you," he said sharply, but his voice cracked in the harsh tone he had attempted to use. This reminded her of something.

"You hit me." Something akin to anger pulled at her mind, but she couldn't find the heart to be totally furious. The guilt that was clear on his face made it even harder.

"I did. I...I was angry...You...you seemed to have forgiven me..."

"I did," she said quickly. "I have...but...it hurt. You...I thought...I thought you wouldn't ever-"

"I won't!" He promised, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her slim waist. "You know I won't-you know I wouldn't, ever again. I didn't mean to hurt you."

_I didn't mean to hurt you_.

No, this wonderful, terrible boy-man-hadn't meant to hurt her...but Dumbledore had. Really, this was all his fault. He had taken her from where she belonged, from where she was supposed to be, just to save himself. Why should he fight his cause-

_No_.

No, it wasn't _his _cause. It was Harry's. And she couldn't take it out on Harry. Dumbledore had pulled him into the same stupid mess that he had pulled her into. They were the same, she and Harry.

Hermione blinked.

"You know...you know which side I'm going to choose, Tom," she was surprised at the lack of hesitation in her voice. He looked at her, seeming to immediately realize what she was talking about. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"I...I know. I think I've always known. I was just clinging to this vague hope that I could keep you. That I could you and this far-fetched dream of ultimate power."

"So, you know its far-fetched!" Hermione exclaimed. "You don't _have _to do this Tom! You don't _have _to be the bad guy! Sure, you've killed _tons _of people, and that's wrong, but if you just _recognized _that its wrong...it's...it's not too late."

He shook his head sadly. "Its _way _too late for someone like me." He looked up at her. "I'll go. You're...you're far too good for this..._any _of this. It doesn't deserve you."

_I don't deserve you_.

"No, listen, Tom-listen! Don't go! I wasn't kidding, all those years ago, when I said I loved you. I _do _love you! I thought I didn't, and I tried to deny it for so long, but I _love _you! I love the person that you're meant to be-not some power-craving mask."

"You don't get it, do you? _Its too late_. The horcruxes are all complete! You take away this stupid Polyjuice potion, and I'm a noseless freak! You can't possibly love a man like me."

"But I do, Tom! I do. And you don't have to give up so easily." He had started to more towards the door, and she didn't care that the desperation in her voice was discernible ."Tom, _please! _Its remorse, Tom! That's all you have to do! _Remorse_. I know you've heard it before, and I know you think its silly, but it'll save you, and-"

He turned to face her so suddenly that she would've stumbled back if his arms hadn't been there grasping her own. "_That's _why, Hermione," he said softly. "_That's _the reason. You're standing here telling me that I can be saved,you love me enough to think that I can be saved. You deserve a man that can love you back...and you're right... Harry can give you that, not me." _  
><em>

"But I don't _love _Harry that way. _Tom!"_

"Goodbye, Hermione. I...you're a great girl."

And he vanished at the top of the staircase, leaving behind a girl with a heart that wouldn't beat.

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><p><strong>AN: Hi guys! Gosh, I'm sorry, that was depressing. But, hey, on the upside, we've got more chapters to un-depress it. On the downside, unless I'm wrong, next chapter will be the last, + epilogue. I can't believe we're really almost there. It kinda freaks me out 0.0 But please continue to review, they're all really inspiring. Thank you to those who stuck through to the end!**

**all the love that i possess~**


	19. We All Fall Down

**A/N: Hey guys! OMG so we're finally here! I'm literally having like a panic attack trembling right now because of how excited and nervous I am for the last chapter. Its been soooo long! Almost an entire year since I've published this story, and now, finally we're actually here! Sorry, I'm ranting, I'm just sooo sad for it to be over ! But here's the last chapter, and I'm almost sad to type it:( But don't worry, I won't drag this on too long-we jump right to the good stuff**

**But, I can't leave ya'll hanging, so, once again, with further ado...the finale!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...but I've grown awfully attached to it... :_(**

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><p>Chapter Eighteen:<p>

We All Fall Down

_One year later_

Spells whizzed past Hermione's head as she darted over and between giant boulders and fallen pillars. She searched frantically for a familiar face, even a Hufflepuff, at least but the battlefield was swarming with bodies, and she couldn't tell one face from another.

A body suddenly slammed into hers and pinned her against the wall. "Remember me, beautiful?" She looked up into the rugged, leering face of Scabior, one of the snatchers who had captured the trio and taken them to Malfoy Manor. She remembered that night clearer than most-the familiarity of the tall, dark building looming out of the darkness, the conflicted emotions on Draco's face, but above all, the cold grin that Bellatrix wore as she carved the word _Mudblood _into Hermione's arm.

_"You may not be of Muggle parents, little wretch," she had hissed. "But you're as good as. Betray the Dark Lord, deny his protection...I would kill you in the most painful way I could if I were allowed..."_

_If I were allowed_.

Which meant that, although Tom had made his decision, he did not want to be completely rid of her. The Death Eaters were not allowed to kill her.

But what haunted her most was Tom's voice in her mind. She had been able to block it out for months, but now it entered with feverish ease.

_I felt you, so close, little one. _

His words were entrancing, if anything. She knew he would not take her if she did not allow him to do so. He had made it clear that evening in the dormitory.

Quickly withdrawing herself from her thoughts, Hermione slammed her knee into Scabior's groin, slamming his head against the brick wall. She moved away from him, sprinting into the castle and up the grand staircase. Her head whirled about, looking for a flash of red hair, _anything_...

"_Oof!"_

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying to help Ron, whom she had ran into, to his feet. "Sorry, I was looking for you!"

"S'alright," He grunted. "C'mon."

"Where are we going?"

"Chamber of Secrets," he replied nonchalantly.

"What?" She ripped her hand out of his.

Ron rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of her again and pulling her firmly against the current of people flowing down the staircase. "Don't be dramatic. Its fine...the Basalisk's dead, as long as there aren't any...spiders." Hermione ignored how his voice cracked .

They reached Myrtle's bathroom and stopped in front of the faucet, Ronald suddenly looking very serious. Before Hermione could ask what he was doing, he began making very strange, yet very familiar hissing noises. She stared at him in awe as the sinks slid apart, revealing the opening. "How-how do you learn to do that?"

"Harry talks in his sleep," he said with a smirk. "Did you know?"

She continued to stare after him aghast as he slid down the giant hole, mouth slightly open. "No," she muttered. "Of course not."

The dimness of the Chamber frightened her, but not nearly as much as the structure of the main hall. Statues of snakes stood on either side of the walkway, and it was _wet _everywhere, making it hard to walk without making any noise. But Ronald wasn't paying any attention to the scenery; he was busy gathering as many Basilisk fangs into his arms as he could. Hermione finally snapped out of her stupor and withdrew her bag from her robes. "Here," she thrust it towards Ron, who immediately deposited the fangs into it. When he still held a single fang in his hand, she looked at him quizzically, and he handed it to her, withdrawing instead a small glass cup with two handles from his robes.

"Do the honours?"

Hermione stepped back, looking terrified. "I-I _can't_."

Ron looked determined as he took a step towards her. "Yes...you _can_."

Swallowing thickly, she grasped the fang in her hand, watching with wide eyes as he set the cup on the stone floor of the chamber. She felt Ron's eyes on her, but her focus was zeroed in on the cup. Her bottom lip was trembling, and she could hardly hold her hand steady. "Ready? On three. You're fine, Mione. One...two...three!"

She dropped to her knees, driving the fang sharply into the cup, the clatter of broken glass echoing throughout the chamber. Before either of them could move, the water on either side of them rose up around them, seeming to form a wall of water, writhed a bit, and then fell back down against the chamber floor with a _splash_.

"What was _that_?" Ron asked, picking up the bag of fangs, which he had dropped. "It didn't put up much of a fight this time. It was almost like the horcrux wasn't strong enough..." he looked suddenly frightened. "Blimey, Hermione. What if that wasn't a real horcrux?"

"No, that was definitely a real horcrux," she said calmly. "I've never felt so much dark magic in a single object. It felt just like the locket...but...it felt weaker. not as though the horcrux wasn't strong enough, but just that...he didn't _care _enough to put up a fight. "

Ron nodded slowly, and begin to collect himself, gathering a few more fallen fangs while Hermione vanished the evidence of the shattered cup. When they were ready, Hermione followed him out of the main chamber and through the doorway.

"Mione?" said Ron as they climbed through one of the longer tunnels. "Erm...we were really worried about you...while you were missing."

Hermione nodded, feeling heat surge to her cheeks as she read the expression on Ronald's face. Oh Lord...

"I...really missed you."

"Ron-"

"No, no, just hear me out!" He said quickly, holding up his hands to stop her from moving any further. "I...I know I've been a jerk over the years...I've been a blithering idiot at times...that incident at the Yule Ball..." They both smiled at the memory. "But...now I know why. I think I've always kind of known, and just...never been able to admit it to myself. I...love you, Mione."

The old Hermione would've dropped her bag, closed the distance between them and snogged him senseless. The old Hermione would have been tingly with happiness, thrilled that he was finally returning her sentiments. The old Hermione wouldn't have been able to keep a smile off of her face.

But she was not the old Hermione. She had experienced a different kind of love, not some school crush. She had matured in ways that Ron and Harry never would.

And that was why she let him kiss her.

This was why she let him pull her body flush against his, and run his large, calloused hands through her tangled hair. This was why she let his bright blue eyes peer into hers too intimately, too romantically, without stopping him. Without giving even the slightest indication that she didn't want him to.

Because she loved Harry and Ron far too much to take away what made them happy. As he pulled away, however, he frowned, studying her face. "Mione? You alright? You aren't all...there."

"Fine," she said, forcing her voice to be chipper. "I-I'm fine."

Ron studied her a moment more, before his shoulders drooped. "It's alright...I get it. It isn't the same, is it? As what it used to be."

"Ronald, I-"

"No, don't," he said, holding up a hand. "You don't have to make excuses. I didn't act quickly enough. You disappeared and...and I realized how much better I liked my life with you in, and I by the time you returned, it was too late, wasn't it?"

She felt tears welling in her eyes as she looked at the boy she had spent so much time trying to love. "I never meant to hurt you, Ronald."

He nodded, giving her a forgiving smile and reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I know...I-I know."

He led the rest of the way back up to the bathroom, still holding her hand, but in a way that let her know that although he was hurt, neither he or Harry were planning on abandoning her any time soon. And that comforted her more than she could've possibly imagined.

The chaos indoors seemed to have diminished durning the time they were down there-the fight must've moved outdoors. They found Harry sprinting down the fourth floor corridor. "Follow me!" He shouted, barely stopping to greet them. He led them back out onto the grand staircase and up onto the seventh floor. Ron and Hermione followed him, bewildered, until he came to an abrupt stop in front of a very familiar bare patch of wall.

"Harry," Hermione said slowly. "This is the come-and-go room."

"It is," he agreed, seeming concentrated.

"What are we d-" She was cut short as the wall began to melt away and the door appeared. Harry flung it open, and his facial expression became something akin to triumphance.

"It's in here."

Ron made his way into the room, and Harry started to follow, when he paused and turned facing Hermione. The sudden seriousness of his expression startled her.

"Harry?"

He said nothing, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her into an alcove. "Hermione, you know that I would never wish to endanger you?" Slowly, she nodded. "You know that I would never purposefully put you in harms way?" She nodded again, uncertain of where he was going with this. "Then, just for the next half an hour, can you trust me-with your life?"

"Of course, Harry, but what-"

"Good. You musn't tell Ron about this, and...Lord knows that if you hate me it is only justified, but-"

"Harry, just tell me what you want me to do."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Lord Voldemort...all he wants is to kill me. He is searching the castle for me, but he will not send his men to get me. He believes that I will come to him, yeah? But his men are fighting, and _hurting _good people, people who don't deserve to be hurt."

"What do you need?"

"Time," he said shortly. "Get me time."

Hermione nodded slowly, her mind already whirring. "I can do that." She started to turn away, but he grasped onto her shoulder, regaining her attention.

"You know I would not ask you to do this if I did not think you were safe." She smiled at him reassuringly, but it didn't seem to put him at ease. "He won't hurt you," he swore, seeming to almost be trying to reassure himself.

"Harry," she said softly. "_Go." _

He smiled briefly at her, laying a fleeting kiss on her cheek, and started in the opposite direction. "Take someone with you, Mione!" He called after her frantically. "Preferrably some else that they also won't hurt! Like a Pureblood!" She rolled her eyes but nodded for his comfort, giving him a cheesy thumbs up before she disappeared around the corner.

As soon as Harry was out of sight, she pulled her cloak over her face, moving quickly down the grand staircase, expertly avoiding debris and fallen bodies alike. It seemed like years until she reached the bottom, but she hurried out of the entrance doors and down the steps. She was unsurprised to find the chaotic fighting resumed outside, so different from the silent haven indoors. It was quite easy to slide between fighting bodies, putting up the occasional blocking spell or the occasional curse. She was nearly half-way to the forbidden force when she heard loud steps racing to catch up with her. Instead of drawing her wand, however, she turned and gave a half-smirk to the figure approaching.

"Couldn't stay away?"

"Where are you going?"

Hermione studied the younger girl. Her red hair had masses of rubble tangled in it, and she reached out an affectionate hand to gently pry the wreckage out. "Harry asked me to buy him some time. I'm off to negotiate with the devils."

This what what Hermione liked about Ginny. She didn't gasp or attempt to stop her. She just returned the older girl's devilish smirk and quipped, "Need a helping hand?" Thinking about it, Hermione knew that personally, Ginny was the last person she wanted to bring along, not because she couldn't handle a wand, but because she was her little sister, not to mention Harry would murder her if she found out. But she also knew that Ginny wouldn't take no for an answer.

"And three is a rather magical number, so I suppose I should join you two as well," Hermione's jaw dropped as she watched Luna Lovegood skip out of the fray, her wand tucked behind her ears and a loose grin set on her lips.

"I-Luna, I don't know if-"

"You said you're just negotiating," Luna frowned. "Negotiating doesn't take much wand work...and me and Ginny have stayed together this entire time." Ginny nodded affirmatively, and Hermione sighed. She was almost certain that when Harry had said 'Bring Somebody', he had meant a male, preferrably a large male, not two female underclassmen. But it could not be helped, so Hermione led the two of them towards the Forbidden Forest without so much as another word.

The silence of the woods was nearly suffocating. The animals seemed to have all either retreated to the deepest part of the woods or else had already joined the fight and were out on the battlefield. Hermione inhaled deeply, letting the rich scent of pine fill her nostrils. The two younger girls were quiet behind her, and Hermione appreciated this. She had originally intended, despite Harry's wishes, to go alone, but she knew that Ginny could be determined, and down-right stubborn when she wanted to be.

It was almost eerie, now that she thought about it, how quiet it was. The sounds of the battle were completely closed out by the thickness of the trees. She had expected someone to at least be on watch-"

"Hermi-!"

"Eep!"

Hermione whirled to find both Luna and Ginny being held by two rather burly Death Eaters. A third immerged behind her and she felt his thick hands grasp too tightly around her wrists. She struggled as he pulled her flush against his chest, leering down at her. "Ello, love. What are three little pretties like yourselves doing wandering all alone in the big, dark woods?"

"Let _go_," Hermione commanded coldly, letting her magic slid freely into her voice and over the man. Confused, his hands moved away from her and he took a step back. "You will take us to your Lord." She informed him.

He turned to face his comrades. "Come. We will take them to our Lord." Both of the men looked baffled to say the least, but they nodded, letting go the of the girls and herding them to follow the first man. He led them down a winding trail, deeper and deeper into the forest, untl they finally came to a clearing where a small circle of Death Eaters were gathered. Hermione tried not to tremble as she stepped out in the middle of the clearing, stopping about fifteen meters in front of Lord Voldemort's chair, Ginny and Luna flanking her.

"What is this?" Voldemort asked, addressing the man who had led the three of them to the clearing.

"She w-wished to sp-speak with you, M-my L-lord."

"And _why _did you comply?"

The man started to speak and then promptly shut his mouth, looking befuzzled. Voldemort sighed, massaging his temple with his long, spider-like fingers. But then he put on a patient half-smile and addressed the three girls. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione heard Ginny intake a sharp breath at the politeness in his tone, and she herself hid a smirk. It was always games with him. She could see the playfulness in his expression, even if Ginny and Luna did not recognize it. "We've come to negotiate." A sharp cackle rang out through the air, and Hermione was surprised to see Bellatrix hanging off of the side of Lord Voldemort's chair, grinning rather maniacally at Hermione.

"Negotiate?" Voldemort repeated, finally meeting her eyes. But the moment his blood-red eyes slid up to challenge hers, she found herself unable to make contact with them. "So these are the terms of the great _Harry Potter__." _Hermione tilted her head in confusion. "To face his own demons, he sends to Blood traitors, and a ...Muggleborn...to do his dirty work. _Expendables_."

"Harry doesn't think of us that way!" Ginny snapped, and Voldemort arched eyebrows. "Well...he-he doesn't!"

"Never mind that," Hermione dismissed. "Look, if you'll just give us...five hours, till one, to collect our dead, tend to the wounded, and...and you know as well as I do that Harry _will _come to you. He's too selfless not to."

Voldemort studied her, his eyes twinkled with amusement as he realized that she was staring at a spot above his brow. "And why, tell me, should I be obligated to do that?"

"Because...because it's fair," Hermione sputtered, her cheeks heating up as the childish words left her mouth before she could stop them. "And...you'll be getting what you want. None of us will stop him." _Lie. _

Voldemort's eyes continued to probe hers, and she nearly flinched as he slowly rose from his seat, crossing the clearing with strides that screamed 'power'. Ginny and Luna had both backed up slightly and were now standing a good five yards behind Hermione. But she stood her ground, even as he stopped in front of her, towering a good foot above her, and stared down at her, far too close to be considered friendly.

"And what if I say no?"

She glared up at him, noticing quite suddenly, there was something very different about Voldemort. His skin didn't look quite so distorted, quite so waxed. His blood-red eyes didn't look quite so frightening; they seemed to have darkened to almost a mahogany color. And his expression didn't look quite so cold, quite so detached, more _weary._

"Then you're half the man I thought you to be."

Instead of looking angry, as she had anticipated, a small, thoughtful frown twisted his features softly, in a very human way. He nodded slowly, stepping away from her and moving back to his chair, brushing against her as he went. "Very well," he called over his shoulder. "You have until midnight!"

"Midnight?" Ginny exclaimed, striding forward. "That's not nearly enough time-" Hermione clapped a hand over the other girls mouth, noting Voldemort's arched brow.

"Midnight is perfect," Hermione ammended hastily, "Just our cup of tea!"

"That's right, take what you can get, Mudblood," Bellatrix intoned, still faithfully sitting, like a lap-dog, on the floor beside Voldemort's chair. Hermione eyed the older woman, whose arms were slung over the side of Voldemort's chair. She didn't like she was sitting-breasts heaving in his face and all. It was just indecent, and it annoyed Hermione immensley for reasons that she wasn't willing to admit to even herself. Lord Voldemort must've followed her line of sight, because when she met his eyes again, he was wearing a knowing smirk that made her flush from her head to her toes. With a huff of annoyance, Hermione whirled, pulling Ginny by the arm along with her.

"You have a serious wrackspurt infection," she heard Luna tell Bellatrix coldly. "You should really get it checked out." Hermione threw back her head and laughed, ushering Luna along behind them. They hurried out of the forest, stumbling along the trail and finally reaching the border of the grounds at 8:30. True to his word, Voldemort's soldiers were filing off the grounds as they watched, into the Forbidden forest, some of them leering at the girls as they passed, others brushing against them none-to-gently.

"Find Harry," Hermione instructed Luna when they reached the entrance hall. "Ginny-" But she stopped at the look on the red-heads face. She was staring at something over Hermione's shoulder. She turned, staring into the great hall, and sucked in a breath.

The Weasley's were all gathered around one of the beds, each of them looking pale and stricken. Mr. Weasley was at the head of the bed, his wife kneeling beside him. Bill and Charlie stood together on the outside of the group, Percy beside them, and Ron crouched down beside George, whose body was flung across the bed, shaking with silent sobs. Hermione could not see the body that occupied the bed, but she did not need to.

Ginny moved silently towards her family and Hermione let her go, unable to offer any words of comfort. She stumbled away from the great hall, suddenly feeling very ill. Without saying anything to anyone, she departed from the entrance hall and ran outside, not stoppping even when Neville called her name. She ran and ran, and did not stop until she collapsed beside the Black Lake, great sobs heaving her body against the ground, unable to control herself at the moment.

How could he do this?

She curled herself into a ball, not caring who saw her in her moment of weakness. A great bubble of pain was welling up inside of her chest, threatening to burst, and _she couldn't breath_.

How could he kill without a second thought? How could be blatantly cast aside _human beings _who were unique and talented and hadn't even lived to their total potential yet?

_It's way too late for someone like me_.

But he didn't understand, did he? He could cast aside all of this in a moments notice, stop all of the fighting, the chaos, call off his troops and _end this madness._ Why didn't he understand that _everyone _is allowed a second chance?

Hermione sat up, ignoring the tears flooding down her cheeks, suddenly determined. She stood, wiping the grass off of her clothes and slowly started to move, once again, in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. She felt like her airway was very narrow and it was growing harder and harder to draw in a breath. The woods seemed even darker when she was alone, but she hardly noticed this as she wound through the trees, not set on a particular path.

The snap of a twig. The crunch of a leaf.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

She stumbled over a tree root and stumbled back into its trunk. Wincing, she scowled at him. "Thanks, a lot," she muttered harshly. "Let's just bruise my tailbone for life, why don't we?"

"Why so vicious, angel?"

She stormed towards him, shoving him as hard as she could backwards. She found her annoyance double when he didn't so much as budge. "You killed my best friends brother."

"Correction, Augustus Rookwood killed your best friends brother."

"Do you know how badly this hurts me, Tom? _Do you_?" Her shriek seemed to rebound through the forest, and they were both silent for a moment.

"I...it was not my intention to hurt you, Hermione," he said slowly, and the rawness of his voice frightened her. He could _not _come here and make her heart melt. That was _not _how it was supposed to happen.

"I don't understand _why _this has to happen, Tom. I've told you, it's not too late-"

"We've already discussed this, Hermione," the sharpness of his voice hardly affected her. "I will not call them off. Come midnight, either Harry Potter will die...or everyone will die."

"But you don't want that," she told him. "You know you don't."

He was staring hard at the ground. "I can' call them off-"

"You keep saying that, and its making think that that's the only issue," Hermione said, annoyed. "You don't have any other issue. You simply refuse to call them off because you don't want to change the game around? People are _dying_, Tom. That's nothing to mess around with."

His gaze moved from the forest floor to her face so quickly that she wondered if it gave him whiplash. Faster than she could follow, he had closed the space between them and took her face between his hands, staring intently in her eyes. Was it her imagination, or were those eyes not red, but that same dark, rich, brown color that she remembered from so long ago?

"Hermione..." His breath ghosted across her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I...will think about it." Without another word, he pressed his lips against her forehead and vanished.

* * *

><p>The tension on the battlefield surmounted as students, teachers, and Death Eaters alike flew by her, spells whizzing in every direction. Hermione dove behind a stone pillar, taking refuge behind it as curse flew past her head. In that moment, Hermione stopped, letting a wide grin spread across her face.<p>

The excitement of the night had been almost too much; the initial fear she had felt when Hagrid had immerged from the forest with a 'dead' Harry in his arms, the confusion when the bespectacled boy had disappeared, and the exuberance she had experienced when she realized-

_He was alive_

And now the castle was in chaos, with people from every side scrambling every which way, attempting to find some grounding. A large number of Death Eaters had already apparated out. Hermione had sneered at their loyalty.

She found Ron sprinting down the grand staircase, Basilisk fang in one hand, wand in the other. He grabbed her hand as he past, pulling her through the masses of people. "C'mon!" He called over his shoulder. "We have to kill the snake!" Hermione nodded, following his back up the staircase, winding up and up and up. They had nearly reached the fourth floor when an darkly-cloaked figure apparated not ten feet in front of them. Ron pulled Hermione against the wall, encasing her in his arms. "_Shh_," he breathed.

Moments later, another figure darted out from behind the wall, fliniging a curse at Lord Voldemort, who easily blocked it. Realizing that neither of the men were taking any notice of her, she studied her surroundings.

And promptly froze.

There. Slithering in Lord Voldemort's wake was the snake. Without really thinking, Hermione picked up large rock and threw it as hard as she could at Nagini. It landed with a loud clatter beside her. Realizing what she was doing, Ron lifted a stone and joined her assault of the treacherous beast. Neither of the wizards above took any notice. Quite suddenly, they vanished.

But Voldemort had left Nagini to them.

Finally, the snake turned to face the two of them fully, slithering towards them down the steps. Hermione stumbled after Ron, backing away from it, casting spells against her hard, scaly exterior for what seemed to be naught. Ron pitched a massive rock in Nagini's direction and it hit her, hard, over the head. The snake rose up on her tail, hissing in fury and surging after them with new found vigor. Hermione screamed as its jaws came within an inch of her leg.

They were nearly to the bottom of the staircase now, and the sounds of war seemed to have gone quiet. "This'll be different," Ron said, pulling her to the side of the entrance hall and glancing around them, paranoid.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"The other two horcruxes didn't put up a fight. Well, the cup tried to, but you should've seen the diadem. It was like it was too weary to defend itself. It was strange."

This news made Hermione's head spin, and she could hardly focus directly on the snake coming at them until she was nearly in front of them. "We're going to have to be careful," Ron said slowly. "I dunno how we're supposed to get this fang in her. Maybe if you distract her-" Ron started to move around the outside of the snake, but she hissed, lunging out towards him. He backed away quickly against the wall, nearly dropping the Basilisk fang. Hermione's eyes grew wide as she realized that the stupid animal had them cornered. She backed up as far as she could into the debris, nearly in tears-

_So this is how I'm going to die._

Hermione closed her eyes, reaching out for Ronald's hang as the snake opened its large mouth, barring its fangs at them. Ron squeezed her hand gently, meant to be some form of comfort, but she could hardly-

The clang of metal against the stone floor made Hermione's eyes shoot open. Instead of a large snake in front of them, Neville Longbottom stood, sword of Gryffindor in his hand, with a decapitated reptile at his feet. Hermione and Ron stared at him in awe. He was breathing rather heavily, but he gathered enough air to look at them and give an easy smirk. "That was easy."

Hermione laughed and flung her arms around Neville's neck, pecking his cheek. The boy blushed, patting Hermione clumsily on the back, but something else drew her attention.

A loud scream was reverberating across the grounds, and Hermione, Ron and Neville sprinted outside to the entrance courtyard. Harry was standing there, two wands in hand, and they watched as Lord Voldemort, conquerer of the wizarding world, seemed to split into two. The waxy skin that stretched across his face peeled back, but before they could see anymore , his figure was enveloped in smoke. Harry rushed forward, trying to see through the thick clouds of ash, and Hermione rushed forward to stand beside him. With this be Lord Voldemort's finishing act?

It seemed to be hours, days even, before the smoke finally began to thin, and by then it seemed that the entire Hogwarts population had gathered in the entrance courtyard. Hermione saw Voldemort's inner circle standing rather warily in the corner of the courtyard, seeming to be preparing to make a fast exit. Hermione caught Kingsley's eyes and gestured to them. He nodded, seeming to get the message.

The smoke was nearly cleared and Hermione stepped even closer, kneeling down at the foot of the smoke to see better into it. She gasped when she realized that there was not one figure immersed in smoke, but two.

Laying on one side was what looked to be a very deformed, very bloodied child, curled up in a little ball around itself. Its skin was wrinkled and marred, and it heaved in air heavily, as though it were hard to breath. Harry came to crouch beside her, grimacing at the figure as though it were familiar to him.

The other figure was a very handsome, very teenage boy. He looked about sixteen or seventeen; there was still a roundness to his cheeks that suggested boyhood, but the length of his arms and legs told her that he was more of a young man.

"_Aveda Kedavra." _Hermione jumped as the shriveled figure on the left ceased its snivelings. Harry then turned his wand towards the teenage boy, and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"Harry..."

He hesitated, and then sighed, muttering softly, "_Ennervate._"

The boy woke with with a sharp intake of breath, sitting up quite suddenly. He blinked very quickly, as if he had forgotten how to use his eyes, and then peered imploringly at Harry. The silence in the courtyard was tangible. Those who did not understand what was happening looked confused. Those who did looked wary.

"Professor!" Harry called suddenly, and McGonagall appeared at his side, handing him something. Harry stood and moved towards the pale boy, who was still on the ground. Without a word, he handed him the vial. Hermione realized it was Veritaserum. She was even more surprised when the boy stared at it for a moment, took it into his large hand, and then threw his head back and swallowed it.

Harry crouched down to his level, and they spoke in a whispered conversation that Hermione could not hear. As she thought it over, she realized that she did not want to. Slowly, the puzzle pieces began to click together in her mind: the small, shriveled figure that lie dead on the ground was the last piece of Voldemort, warped and destroyed by Dark Magic.

But then who was he?

Finally, Harry stood, addressing Kingsley from a distance. "He doesn't seem to be dangerous. He has the same memories as Lord Voldemort, his body and soul seemed to have b een renewed to how they were a little before his sixth year...beefore he started getting involved in the horcrux business." Whispers broke out across the courtyard.

Kingsley regarded the pale boy cooly. "He will still have to go on trial."

"Of course." Harry granted.

"We shall have to keep him under close surveillance. And I cannot promise that he will not have to be imprisoned for a short time until he can prove that he is innocent."

"I understand."

"Very well," Kingsley nodded slowly and then turned to face the Hogwarts population. "Well what are you waiting for? Celebrate, we have won!" A loud cheer run out across the courtyard, and Hermione watched in amusement as the last of the Death Eaters attempted to escape with the hoard of Aurors coming after them. Students took no notice there. The bells were clanging in the high tower and there was not a face that was without a smile. Hermione herself couldn't help but smile as she took in what was sure to be the beginning of a very long celebration indeed.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. "Hi."

Her smile widened. "Hi."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, running a hand through his hair, before he simply stuck it out in front of him. "Let's just start over, yeah?"

She felt the ridiculous urge to laugh as she took his hand. "Hermione Granger," she said, and the biggest smile she had ever seen spread across his lips, making his whole face positively _glow_."

"Tom Riddle."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ohhhh myyyy gossssh I can't believe it's actually over! :0 That was just about the longest chapter I have ever written in my life.**

**Now, before ya'll panic, YES! There will be some explaining done...dont' worry, not to mention the promised epilogue:)**

**I have so much fun writing this story! Thanks for the amazing ride!**

**I love you all! :D**


	20. Epilogue: From the Ashes

**A/N: Hey everyone! So, I hope you all liked el capitulo final! I know I had a lot of fun writing it and re-reading it (even tho I came to the realization that I really need to get me one those Beta people!). I'm sooooo sad that its the end of the story, but I was content with how I ended it. I think, unless I run out of idea, the Epilogue won't exactly be the shortest piece of reading you've ever read;) There's _a lot _of explaining that needs to be done, plus, I just want to show little bits and pieces of Tom and Hermione's life. It'll just skip around a bit and show the things that I think ya'll would like to see!:)**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all relating themes belong to the lovely J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

><p><em>November 19th, 1999<em>

Hermione shivered in her sleep as she felt something ghosting over the skin of her stomach. The room was rather cold, despite the roaring fire in the corner, and she drew the covers up to her chin, hoping to block out the chilly air.

The felt the same something as before slide across her neck, making her jerk sideway, giggling. "Tom, cut it out!" Her eyes opened, and she let out a sharp scream, flinging the tiny, bright green snake onto the bedroom floor. Tom came rushing into the room, wand drawn. When he saw his pet on the floor, he realized what happened.

"Hermione, what have I told you?" He scolded, leaning down and gently picking up the snake, letting her wrap her body affectionately around his wrist. "Be gentle with her. She's just a baby."

Though Kaasu was not nearly as big as Nagini, and half as hostile, Hermione was still not comfortable with the idea of a snake in her apartment. It had been a birthday gift for Tom last December, before he had moved in with her, but she would have never guessed that he'd grow as attached to Kaasu as he had been to Nagini.

"She frightened me!" Hermione protested weakly. "She shouldn't slither all over me while I'm sleeping. Next time I might just flush her down the toliet."

As if on cue, Kaasu hissed and wound herself tighter around Tom's wrist. Hermione felt a twinge of jealousy as she watched Tom's long pianist fingers stroke her, cooing to her softly, in that gentle, soothing tone that she rarely heard him use. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked up, gazing questioningly at her. She realized she mustn't have been hiding her jealousy well, because a lazy, arrogant smirk curled the corners of his lips. He set Kaasu down on the dresser, letting her curl up around the mirror, and climbed onto the bed, crawling towards her until he hovered over her body.

"Surely, my angel, you must realize that I would never allow anything to harm you."

She frowned, playing with the hem of his shirt. "Well...I know...but, still, there are so many more productive ways to be woken up in the morning..." He caught her meaning, grinning ferally at her as he rested his weight on his elbow, curling a strand of her hair around his finger.

"What do you want to do today, love?"

"Hmm, I dunno...Harry and Ron are going to see a Quidditch match...they said we were welcome to come along."

Tom scrunched up his nose, and Hermione couldn't help but think that it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen. "Oh, don't be a baby-it won't be that bad!" He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Besides, we haven't seen them in a week."

"They've been busy, we've been busy," he retorted grumpily. "It's not a crime not to see the same people every day."

"Well, I'm going with them," Hermione sniffed, looking down her nose at him as she climbed out bed. She felt her face heat up as he smirked, shamelessly looking over her appearance. She wore nothing but a pair of boyshorts and one of his large t-shirts. Her hairs was a right mess and her skin was covered in lovebites.

"Are you going to go like that?" He called after her as she stormed out of the room. He heard her mocking reply and chuckled, climbing out of bed as well and following into the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her with mild amusement as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing two cups of coffee. For a moment she stood still at the counter, tapping her fingers against the granite and breathing in deeply. He came and stood behind her, his body flush against hers and his arms on either side of her, trapping her in.

"You're not really mad at me, are you, love?" he breathed against her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her head rolled back and she rested it on his shoulder, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Don't be silly," she breathed. "I could never be mad at you." His smile was rewarding enough. He briefly touched his lips to hers, a subtly promise that there would be more to come later.

"Good," he said finally, letting her out of his tight embrace. "I suppose we coud go to this Quidditch match of yours." She turned, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thank you."

She had to admit, she was impressed. Tom didn't have the same goals and ambitions as Lord Voldemort, but it was still sometimes hard for him to be around people, so the fact that he would willing spend time with her friends, let alone Harry and Ron, who he didn't exactly adore, meant a lot to her.

She remembered how he had explained it to her; during that last year before the battle, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been searching for horcruxes, Lord Voldemort was facing an internal struggle. He was questioning his own values and beliefs, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to act on them. By the time the final battle rolled around, he had already experienced so much guilt and remorse that the horcruxes weren't even really connected to him (that's why they had been so easy to destroy). When Neville had destroyed that final horcrux, Nagini, the last piece of Voldemort disconnected from him, and his slate was swept clean.

That being said, there were still times when Tom struggled. His desire to control and manipulate people had been hard to rid him of, and he was always questioning his own ability to stay on the directed path, but Hermione was always there to help him through.

One month after the final battle, Hermione had decided to go back to school. She had felt a twinge of sadness that Harry and Ron would not be joining her, but was shocked at the other news.

Tom would.

Their relationship had started off tentative at first. Neither was sure where the other stood, so they began as acquaintances, discussing magical theories and class assignments. After a while, they began to repair the damage that had been done during that last year. By Christmas, the two were not only competing to have the top spot in their year, but closer than ever.

The two of them had graduated in June, Tom at the head of the class, with Hermione trailing just half a point behind. For a while, Tom stayed at the burrow while Hermione spent most of her time mending the damage done to her obliviated parents, but in August, when both Tom and Hermione acquired jobs in the Department of International Magical Office of Law, Hermione suggested that he might as well move in with her.

And still, Tom continued to shock Hermione with his progress. In the past three months, Tom had been promoted twice, and had not once shown any sign of preparing for a mad scramble for power. To her, he seemed content with just waking up every morning, getting dressed and walking her to work. He seemed to actually enjoy spending time with her, not just having sex, and it could not have made her happier.

"Ready?" Hermione nodded, throwing her keys into her purse and grabbing her cardigan. Tom waited patiently as she locked the apartment door behind them, and then easily threaded his fingers through hers, leading the way down the long set of stairs. "How's the Weaslette, by the way?" Tom asked, casually lifting Hermione over a puddle, not noticing the smile that lit up her face when he did.

"She's doing well. Panicking a bit, but Luna's doing a good job keeping her calm. We're supposed to go dress shopping next Tuesday."

Tom was shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "I shall never understand why the two of them decided to get hitched just a year out of Hogwarts. She's not even got a job."

Hermione looked incredulous. "She's playing with the Holyhead Harpies!"

Tom gave her a dubious look. "Hermione, I think _both _of us know that playing Quidditch is _not _a career." She nudged him in the ribs, hiding a small smile.

Though the Leaky Cauldron was a good two miles from their apartment, Hermione didn't mind. She liked strolling around town with Tom, her hand clasped tightly in his as they ran about doing their errands. She loved going grocery shopping with Tom; something about it just felt so...family-like.

_Stop it_, she told herself firmly, cutting off that train of thought. _Too soon. _After all, she and Tom hadn't even been together for that long.

_You've been together about as long as Harry and Ginny, _her mind reasoned helpfully. _And you've known him since you were eleven, technically, so its not as if you aren't acquainted with one another. _Hermione rolled her eyes, attempting to clear her head. Such thoughts weren't even necessary. She knew she was only thinking this way because Ginny was getting married, and she had caught a bit of wedding fever.

"Hermione!" Harry called out excitedly, bounding over to her and crushing her into a hug. She gave him a peck on the cheek, smiling brightly at him.

"Hey, Harry! It's been a while. And Ginny! Looking lovely as ever. Let me see it again." The redhead blushed, holding out her left hand as the older girl admired the jewel.

"Harry puts down bank," Ron intoned with a grumble, and Hermione grinned.

The four of them settled into a comfortable silence, before Harry broke it, stepping forward and swinging out an awkward hand for Tom. "Riddle," he said, looking uncomfortable. "Been well, I reckon?"

"As ever, Potter," the taller-_much _taller- boy said, nodding at Harry.

"Well, shall we be off?" Ginny suggested, attempting to break the now uncomfortable silence. She lead them inside the Leaky Cauldron and over to the portkey. "I couldn't find anything else," she said apologetically, nodding at the rusty-looking tin can. The five of them each put a finger on it, and without another word, vanished.

To Hermione, this Quidditch match was similar to the one she had attended her fourth year. She didn't pay much attention to the teams playing, but enjoyed being around her friends again after that short time away from them. She and Ginny eagerly discussed wedding ideas. Ginny had decided on periwinkle blue for the Bridesmaids dresses, as she knew the color looked fantastic on Hermione, and she was certain it would look good on both Luna and Angelina. The wedding would be in January, and Hermione found it more and more difficult to imagine either of her two friends settled down, living together, starting a family, with children...

She silenced that thought immediately. What was with her today? She was suddenly all too caught up in this wedding business for Harry and Ginny that she had actually started considering her own future, as in, beyond a career basis. As in, she and Tom's future. She glanced at the boy in question, who was uninterestedly eyeing the field of players, looking bored beyond belief. She leaned over to him and said in his ear, "You didn't have to come, you know."

He glanced at her, arching a single eyebrow, a replied softly. "I am aware. But I was under the impression that it would make you happy."

She smiled slightly, reaching up and tucking a strand of his dark locks behind his ear. It had grown long over autumn, but she found she quite liked it that way. "It has," she promised him, smiling wider as she leaned up to place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

An amused smirk made its way onto his face. "Then I am content."

His words could have not induced a bigger smile from Hermione.

* * *

><p><em>June 24th, 2002<em>

"I just can't believe it! He's _adorable! Yes you are! Yes you are!_" Tom rolled his eyes as Hermione continued to coo nonsense at the newborn baby, sharing a look with Ron. Harry did not seem to be as exasperated with Hermione, however, for he was too busy staring with tear-filled eyes at his new-born son.

"He looks just like his daddy," Ginny quipped, stroking her sons hair and beaming at Hermione.

"Bullocks," said the daddy, himself. "He's got your eyes, and your cheeks, and your nose. He looks nothing like me."

"Oh alright, alright, whatever floats your boat," Ginny said, rolling her eyes, and Harry beamed, pulling her in for a quick kiss. Ron looked away, making a loud noise of disgust, and the couple laughed good-naturedly.

Wiping a happy tear from her eye, Hermione handed James Sirius Potter back to his mother. "Well, I should be off. I had eggs on the stove when I got your call, so I wouldn't be surprised if the entire apartment is burnt to the ground right now." She leaned over to give Ginny a quick hug. "Congratulations, again, Mrs. Mother." Ginny beamed proudly, demanding that Hermione come over for dinner at the Burrow the following evening. Hermione promised she would. She crossed the room then, enveloping Harry in a tight hug.

"Congrats," she whispered in his ear. "I'm so proud of you." He beamed at her, pecking her cheek and ruffling her hair in a very older-brotherly way. "I'll see you all tomorrow evening!" There was a chorus of "Goodbye Hermione's" and "Goodbye Tom's" before they made their way out of the hospital.

"Oh, I can't believe how cute he was!" Hermione gushed to Tom as they began in the direction of their apartment. "I mean, I know all babies are cute, but _ooh _he was just the most adorable thing I've ever seen." She turned to him, grasping his hand rather tightly, seeming not to notice the amused smirk that curled around his lips. "I _love _babies! I've forgotten how much I loved babies, because its been a while since my cousins have been that young, but _oh Lord _Tom they're just the cutest things in the world! But by Merlin, Tom, when that child grows up, he will be an _amazing _Quidditch player, with parents like that! And I reckon he won't be too shabby of a dueler, either. I don't care about Quidditch, or dueling, but I swear, if our child doesn't get top marks in his year-"

Hermione froze, her eyes widening to such a point that it might've been comical if she didn't look like she was about to faint. Her face had drained of all color, and she refused to make eye contact with him, instead fiddling with her hands. "Lord, Tom, I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that...it just slipped out. I wasn't implying that we had to...to do that or anything. As in...as in have children...not that I was even thinking about that, because that would be silly-"

Tom swooped down, capturing her lips in his own and lifting her full off the ground. Hermione let out a yelp of surprise before surrendering to his demanding kiss, allowing him to lead fully as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, holding her in mid-air as they kissed, either unaware or uncaring of the fact that they stood on a crowded street.

When he finally set her down, Hermione had to cling tightly to his forearms, as his legs did not seem to be working properly. Her face turned bright red as he smirked down at her, but the smirk did not seem to hold its usual arrogance. Before she could even begin to guess what he was thinking, he spoke more softly than she had ever heard.

"Well, I suppose it was about time, anyway."

She frowned, tilting her head sideways in confusion. He sighed, and to her surprise, continued walking. She followed behind quickly, lengthening her strides to keep up with him, and realized that his hands were folded behind his back and his brow was scrunched up, both indicators that he was thinking very hard about something.

"Hermione...lets say...hypothetically of course, that there's this guy."

Hermione felt her own smirk sliding onto her face, having an inkling as to where this was going. "Okay, hypothetical guy."

"Right," he nodded. "And this guy...he's ideal, really. I mean, he's incredibly handsome..."

"Naturally."

"Terribly witty."

"What are the odds."

"And out-of-this-world intelligent-"

"You forgot arrogant."

"Hermione!" Tom looked aghast. "This is all hypothetical! How dare you judge this poor guy without even knowing him.

"Of course, of course," Hermione granted him. "Silly me... go on."

"So there's this incredibly handsome, terribly witty, amazingly intelligent guy, and you've been seeing him for...oh, I dunno...three years going on four years as of December 31st?"

"It was _definitely _not December 31st!" Hermione argued. "I mean...we officially became a...thing...then, but we'd been together since like October!"

"Hermione, lower your voice!" Tom said, looking at her in mock-horror. "Its all hypothetical, therefore I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right, my bad."

"As I was _saying_," Tom continued pointedly. "You've...hypothetically...been seeing this guy for almost four years, and he's erm...well he's...you see, he's hoping to erm...tie the knot, so to speak..." Was she crazy, or did she see a bit of nervousness swimming in Tom's dark eyes? "The hypothetical question is, would you say yes?"

"Hmmm," Hermione said slowly, picking a flower off a nearby bush and twirling it between her fingers in thought. "Well that depends...is this 'wonder-boy'-"

"Wonder-man," Tom corrected carefully.

"Of coures, forgive me, 'wonder-_man__' _hypothetically going to get down on one knee like they do in the movies and profess his undying love for me?...Hypothetically?"

Tom looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm...I dunno. Let me go ask him." He made to turn to leave and Hermione gave a shriek of outrage, grasping his arm and pulling him back to her, glaring at his goofy grin.

"_Tom!"_

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, and, to her shock, knelt down on one knee, looking up at her, and despite his teasing attitude, she could see the trace of seriousness on his face. From his robes he withdrew a tiny velvet box. Inside was a simple silver band with a single diamond. "Hermione Jean Granger, I...well, c'mon now, do I _really _have to profess my undying love for you?"

Hermione nodded happily, soaking in his suffering. "With feeling."

He grumbled, taking her hand in between his two large ones, and looked up at her. "Hermione, I...well, you know I l-love you, even if I don't say it enough, and sometimes even though its hard for me to relate, you are the only reason that I am alive today. I never expected to find so much perfection in you...in your quirks, in your flaws, in everything you do. Your bloody brilliant, and frankly, wonderful in bed, so...Lord, I am not good at this...I...I feel like you...oh, screw it! Would it be too much of a bother if I asked to be the only man you ever shag for the rest of your life?"

Hermione let out a half-scream, half-laugh, "_Yes!_" And promptly he flug herself into Tom's arms. She curled herself around his body, wrapping her legs around his waist as he stood up and spun her around, and she was surprised to see his eyes twinkle with warmth as he beamed at her, kissing her again and again and again until she was dizzy.

* * *

><p><em>May 10th, 2003<em>

Tom was grinning at her in a very wicked way. She glanced nervously between him and the wizard marrying them, wondering what on earth he could possibly be thinking. None of the audience seemed to be noticing his evil glances; they were all _oohing _and _awwing _in just the right places. Hermione couldn't help the small shiver that danced down her spine as she and Tom each took turns repeating their vows. _Her_. _Tom_. _Together_. _Married. To have and to hold. Till death do us part._

It was rather terrifying, actually. She had spent the night before laying wide awake, thinking of every possible worst-case scenario that could happen, re-thinking everything she had ever done concerning her relationship with Tommy and over-analyzing all of the possible ways that this could not work out.

The next morning, the only thought reverberating through her head was _screw it_.

She vaguely registered that the priest had told them to face each other. Her mind suddenly cleared however, when Tom took her hand in his and began to slip the small, but beautiful wedding band onto her finger. He met her eyes, and for the first time that day, instead of a smirk, he gave her a real, genuine smile. She realized it might've even been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Hastily wiping away a tear from her eye, she accepted Tom's ring from the ringbearer, and without so much as a moment of hesitation, she slipped it on his finger, watching with pure fascination as his bright smile became a satisfied grin.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Tom's expression of mischievous had returned, and Hermione grew suspicous. As he pulled her close, gently lifting the veil off of her face, she whispered, "Tom, don't you _dare _do anything to embarass me."

His hand paused in her hair as he quirked an eyebrow. "Embarass you? I wouldn't even think about it." Cutting off her response, he placed one hand on her cheek, and the other, he tightened around her waist, and before she could even think, he spun her around, dipping her so low that her hair brushed the floor. Without another word, he captured her lips in what could've easily been described as the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced in her twenty-four years of life. She faintly heard George cat-call in the audience, but all she could focus on was Tom's lips moving gently against her own.

Finally, he brought her right ways up, and there was a burst of applause from the audience, along with more cat-calls from the Gryffindor crowd. Hermione felt her face heat up and Tom laughed, brushing his fingers along her cheeks. Hermione, too, felt the sudden ridiculous urge to laugh. There was a swell of happiness inside her chest that threatened to burst, but at the same time she could feel it consumming her, even as she threw her bouquet (Angelina caught it, and George, who had been sitting next to her, waggled his eyebrows suggestively), even as Tom removed her garter (she didn't think her face had ever been more red), and even as she and Tom waved goodbye to all the friends and family gathered and piled into the limousine (it even had the traditional cans clattering from the back end and was painted 'Just Married' on the rear window).

As Hermione leaned back in her seat, removing her shoes, she found that she could not take her eyes away from Tom's face. His cheeks were a pleasantly flushed shade of pink and his hair fell dashingly into his eyes, which were, at the moment, glued to her. She blushed slightly as he watched her, massaging her sore feet. After a moment, he slipped out of his seat and onto the floor, kneeling in front of her. He gently pried her fingers away from her skin and replaced them with his own. Hermione shivered as Tom's fingers brushed against her calves, grasping the edge of the seat tightly as he began to kiss his way up her leg, his lips leaving a trail of wetness all the way from the tip of her toes to the uppermost part of her thighs. She grasped his hair as he paused there, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin of her thigh. His eyes raised, meeting hers, and Hermione nearly fell to pieces when she saw that look in his eyes.

"C'mon," he breathed finally, ghosting his lips over her own. "We're here."

Hermione had not even noticed that the car had stopped, but she allowed Tom to pull her out and lead her up into a grand-looking manor. Truth be told, she didn't have the faintest clue where they were at the moment, but she insistent way that Tom tugged on her hand kept her from wondering for too long.

He guided her through the long hallways, finally coming to a darkly-colored door at the end of the hall. Gently, he pushed her inside first, and she looked around, taking in her surrounding. The walls were paneled and deep, earthy brown, and a single chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. But Hermione's eyes were drawn away from all of that and towards the single furnishing that she was sure Tom was concerned about.

The bed was _huge_. It had to be about three times the size of their bed back at the apartment. The sheets, unsurprisingly, were a deep shade of green, and the curtains hung loosely around it, all implications and no actions. She sunk down onto it, running her fingers along the silky sheets, studying them like a curious child.

She looked up at the sound of a door clicking shut. Tom stared at her from across the room, still looking unbearably handsome in his dark dress robes that contrasted so beautifully with his pale skin. His eyes probed hers in an inviting way and Hermione trembled, sliding backwards further on the bed.

He began to move towards her, his fingers moving up to slowly loosen his tie. He let it hang around his neck as he slipped his arms out of his jacket, discarding it carelessly on the floor. She watched as he sensually undid each button, and each inch of skin revealed to her felt like a mile. Finally, he threw off his shirt and his tie and stood before her, half-naked. She stared up at him, timid and suddenly all too aware of herself. Sure, they had slept together before, but something about this felt...different. There was a certain intimacy about the large bed, the dark room, the roaring silence.

Slowly, he leaned down, crawling onto the bed until he was hovering over her. His face was blank as he studied her, but his eyes were a hurricane of emotions as they studied her, giving her a once-over before leaning down and running his tongue across her jaw. Hermione writhed beneath him, embarassed at her lack of self-control. Tom smirked, repeating the action before moving to the juncture between her neck and her shoulders. She hissed in pleasure, gripping his arms tightly.

Finally, when he seemed to be done with his little game, he sat up, pulling her with him out of the bed. They stood facing each other, neither speaking, neither looking away from the other. Hesitant and unsure of what he wanted, Hermione moved towards him slowly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his in such a sweet way that Tom gasped. Brushing her hair away from her neck, he turned her so that her back was to his front and gently began to untie the ties of her dress. He watched as the dress slowly fell away from her body and Hermione was left in nothing but her underwear. Tom could feel his pants growing tighter, but did not move to embrace her yet; tonight, he wanted to take things slow.

She turned to face him, shivering as the cold air of the room hit her bare body, and she wrapped her arms around her chest protectivley, not entirely sure what she was embarassed of. Smiling slightly, Tom drew her hands away from her chest and guided her back to the bed, laying her down gently and looking down at her with adorable fascination. He slid a hand over her stomach, relishing in the softness of it, and gasped when she realized that Hermione's hands were on the buttons of his trousers. He twitched as her hand brushed against him, undoing the zipper and helping him slip out of them. Tom growled softly at the sound of Hermione's mewl when he brushed against her. He felt himself coming undone by the look on her face, the sounds she was making, the feel of her body against his.

And as he claimed her that night, not as her master, her lover, her boyfriend, but as her husband, all Tom could do was revel in the fact that she loved him, and him alone.

And that was all that mattered.

* * *

><p><em>February 7th, 2004<em>

"I just don't understand why you're so upset!"

Hermione slammed the door behind her, making the windows tremble in their frames a bit, and slammed the groceries down on the counter. "We were only having lunch!"

"Yeah, and _flirting_," Tom spat, following her into the kitchen. "Don't think I didn't notice."

"We weren't _flirting_, Tommy!" she told in, irritated. "Draco is my _friend_. Generally one likes to spend time with friends."

"Yeah, but not friends that are eyeing you up like you're some kind of-"

"He's _engaged, _Tom, for Merlin's sake! I don't understand why you're getting so upset. I have lunch with Harry and Ron all the time!"

"That's different!" She jumped as Tom's hand made contact with the cabinet. "Harry and Ron are...are...well they aren't competition, okay?" Hermione's jaw dropped as she stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and fury.

"Compe-_competition_? I _married _you, Tom, there _is _no competition. You've got me! I'm yours. So, I don't see why you have to get so jealous-"

"I am _not jealous!_" he roared, slamming his hands on the refridgerator and trapping her between his arms. She glared up at him, hastily pushing a strand of hair from her eyes. The anger was rolling off of him in waves, but Hermione was too angry to be afraid. Neither of them looked away from the other for a moment, until, to Hermione's surprise, Tom lowered his eyes, studying her collarbone intently. "I'm not jealous," he repeated quietly. "I just...I've had too many things taken away from me in my life, and...I won't lose you."

Hermione's expression softened and she gently brushed her fingers along the edges of his face, tracing his jaw, his brow, his lips. "I'm not going anywhere Tom. I love you. You should no that well enough to know that some silly boy isn't going to come between that. I'm not going anywhere, and no one is going to take me away from you."

He nodded guiltily, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body flush against his own. "I-I'm sorry," he struggled to say. "I was being silly."

"Yes, you were," Hermione agreed placidy, raking her fingers through his hair, her nails sending pleasant sensations across his scalp. "But I've been silly before, and people argue over stupid things." He gave her a greatful peck, pressing his lips to her in a short, sweet kiss, which, afterwards, became something much longer.

That evening, the two of them curled up on the sofa together to watch a movie. Hermione had decided on one of her all-time favorites, _the Titanic_, and she now sat curled up to Tom, both of them underneath a light blanket, her eyes glued to the screen. Tom, himself, was rather bored, but would to anything to please Hermione, so he had obligingly agreed to watch what he considered one of the most girly movies of all time.

Towards the end, Hermione was crying rather noisily, and Tom pulled her against his chest, rubbing soothing patterns along her back uncertainly. Her sniffles were enough to unnerve him, but the fact that every time she would seem to calm down, a whole other bout of tears would erupt, was utterly disturbing to him.

Tom was grateful when the screen finally went black and the credits rolled. He sat up, yawning and stretching widely while Hermione collected herself, wiping the remainder of her tears. He glanced over at her, and she gave him a small smile. "Tomorrow night we'll watch _the Notebook."_

He gave her an uneasy smile, not sure of what that was but almost certain that he-most likely-would not enjoy it. She seemed to notice his discomfort, because she frowned at him, silently asking what was wrong. Tom immediatley gave her a comforting smirk-he didn't want her to get any more upset than she already was. Slipping his fingers into hers, he kissed her slowly, sensually, and smirked when he felt her sigh against his mouth. Pulling away reluctantly, he stood up, dragging her up with him and gently guiding her towards their bedroom.

"As you wish."

* * *

><p><em>May 17th, 2005<em>

Her greatest, most pronounced fear, Hermione had realized, was telling Tom.

Tom had never expressed a wish to have any children. They had never discussed it; it had actually never even been mentioned since the night of James' birth. Tom didn't really even socialize with any of the kids. He was certainly around them enough; Bill's daughter Victoire was four-years-old, along with his two-year-old daughter Dominique. Not to mention George's twins, Roxanne and Fred, at eighteen months. The Burrow was almost always alive with children. If it wasn't any Weasley's, then it was Teddy Lupin, who was a handful himself.

And he seemed to deal with them well enough. He never went out of his way to connect with them, or be the favorite uncle, but he was kind to them, and bought them gifts for their birthdays. But Tom had never said anything about _wanting _his own children. Hermione had been beginning to wonder if it was just going to be two of them for the run.

That was before she found out.

It had started with just simple morning sickness; she had skipped work a few days to see if it would go away. It didn't. Tom's worry was unsurpassable. When she had been feeling ill for nearly a month, he started calling some of the finest healer at St. Mungo's to figure out what was wrong at her. She had gone in to the check up alone (he had an extremely important meeting at work, but he had felt incredibly guilty) and the healer's had calmly informed her that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

You know, _other _than the fact that there was a little human inside of her.

Hermione had been too scared, at first, to even feel happy. So many questions had burst into her head as she had left St. Mungo's. The logical side of her brain would not _shut up _when she had never before desired for it to do so more. But finally, happiness did makes its way in there.

She was going to be a mother.

Feeling a new sense of optimism, she entered their house silently, setting her purse on the table and studying her husband. He was seated across from her, a newspaper in one hand and a cup of tea in another. She couldn't help but, once again, be struck by how handsome he was. When he did not look up at her entrance, she approached him slowly, prying the tea and newspaper from his hands gently. He looked up at her, giving her a soft smile.

"Hello, love," he murmured, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. "Did you have a good day?"

Hermione nodded, trying to fight the smile that was forcing its way onto her face. He _had _to be happy. There was no way he wouldn't be. Sure, maybe he had never had a particular desire to have children, but once the full force of _what _was _happening _inside her hit him, he was sure to be pleased.

"What's got you in such a pleasant mood?" He arched an eyebrow in the way that he knew drove her crazy, but she could not be distracted tonight.

"I'm having a baby."

His hands, which were in her hair, froze, and his face was wiped completely blank of all expression. "Wh-_what_?" His voice cracked.

The smile slipped off of her face as she attempted to decipher any expression from his face. "I...I'm having...a baby."

He sucked in a sharp breath as the initial hope, the hope that he'd heard her wrong, vanished into thin air. He stood up and she slid off of his lap, but he took no note of this. He backed away from her slowly, looking anywhere but into her eyes. "I...I've got to..." He shook his head. Without another word, he crossed the room in two strides, opened the door, and disappeared outside. Hermione heard a distant _pop _and he was gone.

* * *

><p>"Harry! Have you got any idea where my green cardigan is?"<p>

"Yes, dear, I believe I saw it in the drawing room."

"Thanks, love!"

Harry turned back to his paper work, grumbling as he anxiously ruffled up his hair. They had had him doing pages upon pages of paperwork lately, and with the new election coming up for Minister, the office was in a bit of a scramble. He didn't understand why _he _had to fill out all the paperwork when it was his _boss _that was running in the election. But, on the upside, they were paying him extra, and with a baby on the way, a little extra money didn't hurt.

"Daddy!" He looked up at the sound of his son's call. The two year old toddled into the room, dragging a rather old, beaten blanket behind him. Harry smiled, lifting the boy into his arms and setting him on his lap.

"What's up, son?"

"Is my brother coming yet?"

Harry laughed, patting his son's round little head. "Not yet, kiddo. I'm afraid we've got a while. Why don't you-"

"Master Potter, you've got a visitor!" Harry glanced at the ancient house-elf who had apparated into the room.

"Kreacher, what have I told you about the Master Potter business?"

The skin of the wrinkled little house-elfs face seemed to tinge red. "Forgive me, sir. Master-erm...Harry, a Mr. Riddle is at the door to see you."

Harry masked his surprise. "Send him in."

Kreacher disappeared and reappeared moments later, Tom Riddle following in his wake. Harry stood, balancing James in one arm, and shook the taller man's hand. "Tom. It's been a while. How've you been?"

"I'm...I'm..." Harry watched in shock as Tom let out a growl of frustration, running a hand through his already severly messed-up hair, and began pacing in front of him.

"James, why don't you go to your mother for a moment, yeah?" The boy threw a curious look between the two men, but obeyed, waddling off to find his mother. Tom watched him go with an air of desperateness. His face looked so openly frightened that Harry was nearly scared. "Lord, Tom, what's the matter?"

"I'm sorry...I don't mean to barge in like this, but...I couldn't think of anyone else to come to. We're a bit alike, you know, and I figured you'd know what I...I mean...you'd..." He groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands. "Hermione's pregnant."

Apparently, those had been the last words Harry had been expecting, because his jaw dropped and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What? No-you're joshing me!" Tom shook his head miserably. "That's-_wow_. That's fantastic! Congratulations!"

When he realized that Tom wasn't sharing in his enthusiasm, he put his hands on his knees, staring hard at the boy. "What's wrong?"

Tom stood up, pacing again, looking more out of control than Harry had ever seen him. "I-God, I panicked, okay? I didn't know what to do, so I left."

"You _left?" _Harry repeated, looking horrified. "_Tom! _Merlin, she's going to think you're...you're...breaking up with her or something!"

"But I didn't _mean _to!" Tom insisted. "I just...I couldn't face her like that. Lord, _I _didn't know what to say. I've never been a dad before! Look at you! One child already and another one on the way-but you aren't panicking. You do realize that I would be the worst-suited father on the face of the planet?"

The silence that settled over them was deafening. Harry was studying him in an all-too-knowing way, and Tom didn't like it. He looked away from the younger boy, glaring hard at the opposite wall.

"You know, it was my first time being a father once, too," Harry said finally, his voice quiet. "And I can guarantee you it was just as hard for me as it is for you. Not many people know this, but my childhood wasn't exactly tulips and roses, either. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, who despise me, and never knew my real father. I spent my entire life trying to find an identity in people I looked up to: Sirius, Dumbledore...hell, even Remus at some point. But I watched them all make mistakes in their lives and it became clear to me, one by one, that they were not perfect, and that _I _will never be perfect. I learned not to rely so much on others, but to have faith in myself, that _I _could get the job done. Fatherhood isn't something that you're born to do. I was blood _terrified_ when Gin told me that she was pregnant-you could ask her, I spent an entire month, coming home every evening after work, downing firewhisky after firewhisky, convincing myself that I would be a terrible father, trash. But then Ginny came to me one evening and explained to me that I couldn't possibly be a terrible father. She told me that people aren't born with the ability to care for a child, but that I'd know, when I saw that kid..." Harry swallowed, and Tom looked away uncomfortably as two tears slid down his face. "_My son_...I'd know that it was time to think about someone other than myself."

Tom pondered over his words slowly, feeling the choking fear in his throat beginning to die down some. "I shouldn't have ran," he said quietly.

"No, you shouldn't have," Harry agreed. "But you did, and its over and done with, and now, all thats left is for you to go back and let Hermione know that she has your full support, whatever this leads to."

"Do you think she'll forgive me?"

Harry gave him a dubious look. "Mate...she's _Hermione_. She's a big bundle of happiness and forgiveness." Tom blinked, nodding slowly. When he made no move to get up, however, Harry added, "_Go_."

* * *

><p>"He's left me."<p>

"He hasn't left you," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she balanced the two-year-old on her knee. "He just needs a bit of time to clear his head. He's _scared_. He's never experienced this before. You can't let it bother you that he ran off like that-it wasn't his intention to hurt you."

"But...but..._I _want this baby."

"And he does too," the redhead said comfortingly, massaging the tension from the older girl's shoulders. "He just hasn't realized it yet. This would be about the point when he's second guessing his ability to care for another human being. You can't take it personally."

Hermione sniffled, discarding another tissue in the rubbish bin (it was overflowing) and crossing her legs underneath her. "Do you think he'll be back soon?"

"Before you know it." She nodded slowly, embracing Ginny tightly, giggling as James made a cooing sound, trapped between the two women.

"I...I'm so excited, Ginny," Hermione confessed. "I...Lord, I never really thought about actually having a child-Tom and I had never discussed it-but, now that he's in me and he's _growing _its just...its just..."

"I know."

The fireplace suddenly erupted with flames and Tom stepped out, his eyes almost immediately drawn to Hermione. Ginny stood slowly, holding James on her hip as she collected her bag. "I'll be off," she told them, pecking Hermione on the cheek. "I'll see you two at the Burrow on Friday, I presume."

"Yes, we'll be there!" Hermione called after her. "And thanks Gin...for everything." The redhead nodded, giving her a sly wink from behind Tom's back and Hermione allowed a small smile to spread across her face.

Tom crossed the room as soon as the door had clicked shut behind her. He knelt at Hermione's feet, placing his hands on her knees and staring up at her intently. "Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Hermione did not look at him, but instead stared straight in front of her, above his head. Despite her furious expression, her bottom lip trembled, giving her away. "You gave me a right scare."

"I know."

"You hurt my feelings."

"I know."

The last of Hermione's angry facade crumbled as tears flooded down her cheeks. "I thought you'd left me." Tom felt guilt wretch at his heart and he vaguely wondered if he'd be able to forgive himself in the next century. Silently, he swept her up into his arms as she wept against his shoulder. He said nothing, but could feel the weight of the air between them, and felt that he did not need to. When she finally lifted her head, he took the opportunity to press his lips to hers. Despite her previous rage, she returned his kiss enthusiastically, moaning as his tongue parted her lips. When they broke apart, he leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes probing her own.

"I would _never_ leave you," he swore fiercely, pressing his lips against her forehead. "And I...I _want _this child...I'm just not sure how to deal with it yet."

A bright smile lit up her face and she nuzzled into his chest, inhaling his scent deeply. "And that's all I can ask of you."

* * *

><p><em>September 1st, 2019<em>

"Get _off_ my snake!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she sat back on the counter top, sipping her tea and attempting to push out her throbbing headache by sheer will force.

Mrs. Weasley had thought it would be great idea to invite all of the grandchildren (plus Hermione and Tom's family) over to the Burrow to take a family picture, since all of the kids were officially or had already been officially Hogwarts students. Now the fifteen children were practically at each others necks, save for Teddy and Victoire, who were probably off snogging in some broom closet.

"_Maybe _if you didn't put your snake on the _ground _it wouldn't be such an _issue!_" James Potter roared, stepping closer to the younger boy and bringing attention to their height differences. Zeus glared up at him fiercely, his eyes sparkling in what seemed to be a challenge.

"Cut it out!" Albus said, cutting between them. "Leave him alone already, James...and Z...he didn't mean to step on your snake, mate."

Zeus at least had the decency to look ashamed, while James grumbled, moving away from the younger boys. Just then, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room, holding what looked like a very ancient muggle camera.

"Alright, alright, Weasley's, Potter's, Riddle's, gather round! Yes-just there, in front of the grate. Teddy, darling, you should probably stand in the back. No Fred, don't tread on your sister's toe. Oh, Jamie, dear, you're blocking your sister! And...perfect! Now hold very still, I don't have any idea how efficient these things are, and for the love of Merlin, Lucy, will you at least _try _to smile?"

As the Weasley-Potter-Riddle-Lupin gang was pushed and pulled in every direction, Hermione watched in faint amusement. She felt a tear rolled down her cheek and quickly swiped at it, hoping that Tom wouldn't notice.

"Nice try, love," he murmured in her ear, and she sighed as he wrapped his arms around her, leaning back into his embrace. "Something the matter?"

"It's just rather emotional," Hermione admitted. "Our baby girl is starting her first year at Hogwarts."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, and its all very exciting, la-de-da..."

"Oh, you act all calm and collected _now_," Hermione teased. "You didn't seem to be so unaffected when I mentioned the _boys-"_

"Cut it out," Tom said sharply, all traces of amusement gone from his face as he gave her an irritated glance. "It isn't funny-they're a load of idiots. I hardly even trust her around this lot, let alone a bunch of uneducated, ill-mannered little-"

"Perfect everyone, perfect!" Mrs. Weasley called out above the chatter. "Alright, everyone have all their things? Trunks, robes, wands? Alright, pile in!"

The large group filed out of the house, each family heading to their respective cars. The Riddle family climbed noisily into their black volvo, Tom starting the engine and slamming down on the gas, pulling haphazardly out of the driveway. Hermione fought the small smile attempting to make its way onto her face.

"I thought we had stopped this?"

Tom said nothing as he watched the blue van pull up next to their car. He rolled down his window.

"First one to Kings' Cross?" Harry called out.

"You're saying it like you've actually got a chance," Tom replied confidently, and he floored it down the lane, leaving Harry in the dust. Zeus let out a loud laugh, ignoring how his mother's disapproving frown landed on him for a moment.

They rode in a silence for a while. "Mum, did you sign my Hogsmeade forms-"

"They're in your trunk, darling."

Zeus nodded, looking relieved. After a moment, Nadia looked up from her book. "I want to go to Hogsmeade."

"You can't," Zeus told her matter-of-factly. "You've got to be a third year-like me."

"Do they have intelligence requirements too?" she asked innocently. He looked confused. "If so, I wouldn't be so certain about your admittance." Tom let out a bark of laughter, eyeing his daughter approvingly in the rear-view mirror. Hermione just shook her head, staring out of the window. They were the first to arrive to Kings' Cross, and they unloaded their trunks from the back, Zeus disappearing into the crowd and out of their line of sight. Nadia silently continued through the train station, expertly weaving through travelers with her nose still buried in her book.

Zeus had appeared again, with Albus at his side, this time. He helped his sister load her trunk onto the train and then turned to face his mother, grimacing expectantly.

"Now, mum-"

"Oh, my sweetheart-"

"_Mum!" _He struggled against her hold, blushing profusely and glaring at Albus, who was smirking at him. "Let _go! _I'll miss you loads, I swear, but you're _embarassing _me."

"Sorry, sorry," Hermione said absently, seeming to collect herself. She turned to her daughter, who looked extremely calm for her first time attending Hogwarts. "So, you're sure you've got everything you need, love? All your books, your clothes-"

"—my cauldrons, my quills, my ink, all my socks, Hermes is in his cage, and _yes, mum_, I promise to write _at least _once a week!" Hermione blinked, feeling a since of deja vu, as she remember almost those exact words coming from her own lips, _all _those years ago. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter, placing a gently kiss on her foreahead.

"Be safe, darling. I love you."

"I love you too, mum." Her smile was soft, and she waved once more before turning and loftily climbed up onto the train, disappearing inside.

Hermione felt Tom move beside her, felt his hand grasp her and felt his lips against the top of her head. "She'll be fine," he told her soothingly. "If she's anything like you, she'll be top of the year and get into more trouble then the dickens."

His wife gave him a testy look. "That is not exactly what I wanted to hear..."

He chuckled, folding her against his chest as the both of them watched the train pick up speed, gaining momentum as it pulled away from the platform. "She's perfectly safe."

"I know she is," Hermione conceded finally, feeling another tear slip from the corner of her eye as she watched the train fade to a spot in the distance, steam trailing behind it. She could feel, deep within the recesses of her mind, that despite her worry, she had nothing to fear.

All was well.

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><p><strong>AN: Ohhh Emmm Geee. So that might just have been the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life...but hey, its an epilogue...its allowed to be long. I hope you guys enjoyed all of the excerpts in here, and...oooh, I'm not sure if I'm going to regret this, but if any of you have any suggestions or ideas or excerpts that you would like me to include or add in here, I miiight just edit the chapter to add them it...but I'll only take the first ten!**

**I can't tell, but re-reading this, it sounds totally crappy, so I wouldn't blame you guys for burning me at the stake:P And, oh, by the way, this was bothering. I know that _the Notebook_ didn't come out until June of 2004, but I really wanted to use it as a reference, so, forgive me?:) And also, slight Harry Potter reference at the end. I liked how she finished it off, and I thought it'd be good to make it relate a bit, yeah?**

**Its actually quite interesting: I feel like, as the author, I watched both Tom and Hermione evolve as people. I watched as they chagned from first years all the way up to their parenthood. It was so cool to see how they changed, even if that sounds tooootally nerdy!**

**Its been an amazing ride, and I've enjoyed every second. I just wanted to say thanks to:**

**alannalove1990, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, sunriseWILLcome, mom2nljj, Chelley1983, The cursed child, Guest, Gabby0515, Aging Dragon, Hunter111, MidnightThief15, Silver doe 3, Secret Hopeless Romantic, hateme101, Scarlet Dewdrops, Ebony's Grim, arabellagrace, Beautiful-Liar13, SapphireDreamer26, lilmisslovely2, sejdwbgserslbjw0128, princessNyxxx, Pharies, Nicole Lovely, Miridea, PintoNess, Daughter of Chaos 98, The Violent Russian Llama, Lost O'Fallon Girl, Account Currently on Hiatus, sports7, Nina Dreams ,bailey vicious, , liz3392, LittlexKitten, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIr, Laringle42, TheIronyBehindMyRealName, Ikuni Hattori, persuasion, Thrisha-Armstrong, fanficftw23, ShadowAngel55, The Overture. Nero Basterdino, Beloveddreamer, Ashley Wrackspurts, Sindraelyn, tacker23, sortedSlytherin, Zombie Reine, Gabrielle Dashwood, Dreamer22, Tisha24, Stara-chi, Preciousgurl, gemini-rose16, Morinya, loneserpent, EmeraldGoddess52, RainyDay419, Goodness-Rainy, Midnight Lost, cosmoGirl666, and Wiked lovely miko**

**Your reviews inspired me and helped me find the motivation to finish the story! Ya'll make me sooo happy!**

**By the way...don't completely count a sequel out of the picture...if ya'll want it that is...;)**

**Thank you so much! Its been in amazing ride.**

**Lots of love~**


	21. An Excerpt: Nirvana

**A/N: Hi, guys! So...umm...I'm a total loser. I find my life at a loss without this story. I'm not quite ready to start the sequel yet, but I feel so weird when I'm not writing! I think I just miss ya'll, and am having Ashes, Ashes withdrawal;) So, here's an excerpt! Nothing critical or anything, just some more bits a pieces of Hermione and Tom's life that I felt like writing**

**Disclaimer: It ain't mine. Ya'll know what I'm talking about;)**

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><p><em>December 21st, 1998<em>

Hermione shuffled through her notes anxiously, peering at the scribbled writing, in search of a particular page having to do with Slughorn's lesson the previous day. She growled, tossing the crumpled notes onto the floor and slamming her head down on the library table. The sound seemed to echo throughout the room, and quicker than Hermione could count, Madam Pince came flying around the corner, face alit in an expression of outrage.

"_Ms. Granger!" _She shrieked, loud enough to wake the inferi residing at the bottom of that wretched lake that Harry claimed to have nightmares about so often. "_How _many _times _have I _told you_? _Don't throw tantrums in the library!"_

"I wasn't throwing a tantrum!" Hermione argued discordantly. "I was just looking for my notes from-"

"-Insolent, _disrespectful _child-"

"-Wasn't causing any harm! Honestly, you're being louder than I was-"

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew both of their attentions away from the other. Tom stood rather hesitantly between to bookcases, and Hermione immediately recognized his expression as that of one trying to charm the pants off of someone else.

"Sorry...I hate to be a bother, its just...I was trying to finish this book-Romanoff's got some great theories on charm structure-and I was wondering if you two wouldn't mind settling your dispute in a...quieter...level of voice, yeah? I'm sure Hermione's tantrum's can be lowered to a less-disruptive volume, after all." The younger woman watched in disgust as the librarian practically seemed to melt at Tom's words.

"_Of course! _Don't be silly Tom! We shan't disturb you any longer. You let me know if Ms. Granger gives you any more trouble, and I'll be sure to send her on her way." Tom grinned at her and Madam Pince disappeared once more, muttering things like 'wonderful, studious boy' and 'such a little prince' along the way.

Hermione let out a 'Hmph!' and dropped lower into her seat, lifting her book so that it covered her face. She was not prepared, however, to see Tom's dark eyes peering over the book at her. She swatted at him and he chuckled, dropping into the seat across from her.

"You always get me into trouble," she grumbled, eying him stonily. He seemed relaxed under her fierce gaze, and he even had the gall to lean back, putting his hands behind his head and throwing his feet up on the table.

"But its not my fault you're adept at getting into trouble, my lady," he replied in a reprimanding tone. She kicked his foot under the table, almost knocking him off of his chair. He sat back up, arching a brow at her.

"Don't," she warned. "I wish to be left alone. I can't deal with you right now, Tom."

She felt a pang of guilt when a tiny flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but she dismissed it when he nodded, withdrawing his own book from his bag and relaxing into his chair. She turned back to the pages in front of her, but whatever she had been researching hardly seemed consequential anymore. Sighing in defeat, she pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and her quill. Dipping her quill into the ink, she titled the essay and began to write.

Hermione had gotten almost an entire parchment's length when she felt a barefoot sliding up her calf, tracing patterns on the bare skin there. She looked up sharply, trying to hide the shiver that ran down her spine. Tom was not looking at her, but rather, down at his own book. Shaking her head, she continued to write. Only moments later, however, she was distracted when the foot inched its way up her leg, now resting on her thigh.

"Tom!" she whispered furiously-though why she was whispering, she was not sure. It was Christmas break, and nearly everyone was away for the holidays. "_Tommy!" _He looked up, blinking at her in an adorably oblivious way, but she didn't buy it for one second. "What are you playing at?"

He frowned, looking baffled. "What do you mean?"

"Oh don't _even_, Tommy! You know _exactly _what I mean!"

He blinked again, before a slow, sensual smirk curled the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry...does it bother you?"

She blushed, looking away from him before turning back to meet his eyes challengingly. "Its just distracting, is all."

"Right," he conceded, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Well..._perhaps_ if you're getting so easily distracted...you should take a break." Before she could respond, he had moved from his seat across the table to the seat that was directly next to hers. He leaned towards her, his hand grasping the back of her chair as he peered at her closely. She could hardly breathe as his dark eyes probed her own, looking for any sign, even a flicker of rejection.

It had been a while, she knew. They had started out slow. She had hardly seen him over the summer, what with the whole recovery of her parents memories, and his trial and all. They had sat together on the Hogwarts Express, and Hermione could honestly say, it had been the most awkward train ride she had ever been on. Neither of them spoke much, and she couldn't even find the bravery to look him in the eye more than once or twice.

They had gotten better. There had been a few subtle steps; a brief squeeze of the hand, a comforting peck on the cheek, but nothing enough to strongly, genuinely communicate "_I'm ready._"

Tom seemed to jump as the clang of the bell echoed across the grounds, signalling lunch time. He gave her one long, last look before he stood, offering her a hand. He waited patiently for her to gather her things and then easily lifted her bag and draped it over his shoulder. He was surprised when he felt Hermione slide her small hand into his own, interlocking their fingers. He looked down at her, raising his eyebrows with question, but she just shook her head, nodding towards the exit, and after a moment, he complied.

The Great Hall was nearly empty. With it being only a few months after the final battle, students were still eager to spend time with their families, waiting as the wizarding world rebuilt itself. Hogwarts, itself, had been a handful to put back together, but with the help of the Order, Ministry, and many faithful students, it had taken much shorter than anticipated.

Tom and Hermione sat alone at lunch. During the school year, they would usually sit with Luna, or Ginny; house seating was practically ignored after the battle.

After lunch, the two of them wandered out onto the grounds. Hermione was grateful that she was finding it easier and easier to talk to Tom. She was shocked, too, at how their conversations could range from deeply philosophical to entirely mundane. She found herself talking to him about the silliest things, and, even more to her surprise, found herself caring less and less. She couldn't possibly be concerned about making a fool of herself when his eyes, those dark, enthralling eyes, watched her with such devote attention, such careful scrutiny.

The two of them sat in the snow, underneath the beech tree next to the Black Lake. Its murky waters were frozen solid and Hermione squinted as the sun's rays bounced off its glassy surface.

She watched from her peripherals as Tom stretched, his lean body tightening and contracting, wiry muscles flexing against the thin fabric of his shirt. She could see the veins running through his pale skin, from his bicep, branching at his wrist, into his hand, where his long, thin fingers drummed against his knee, entrancing her with their movement.

Hermione blushed as she realized how callously she was studying him. "We should do this more often," she quipped quite suddenly, and he glanced over at her, looking amused.

"And to what are you referring to, if I may ask, my little mouse?"

The familiar pet name almost stopped her short, but she continued without missing a beat. "This whole _outdoors _thing. You could really use some color, and to be perfectly honest, you look good outside."

He studied her long and hard, the way he did when something she had said threw him off or confused him. "_Outdoors _thing?" he said finally, as if tasting the words on his tongue. "You know perfectly well that I don't do _outdoors _often, Hermione."

The way he said her name made her smile. "We'll go camping," she decided quite suddenly. "But, we have to put up the tent by hand, and cook our own food, and everything."

"Hermione-"

"It would put me forever in your debt."

He paused studying her with a slight smirk on his lips. She shivered as he leaned closer to her, lifting a hand and trailing it through her hair. She seemed frozen against him, and pliant to his every wish. The cold didn't seemed to be affecting either of them; both of their cheeks were pleasantly flushed. Hermione let out a wry giggle as Tom pulled her into his lap, gripping her waist gently as he lifted her effortlessly.

Tom's eyes didn't stray from her face. She swallowed thickly as she watched his eyes flicker down to her mouth and back up again.

Not really registering what she was doing, Hermione grabbed his head forcefully by the jaw and tugged his face towards her. His gasp of surprise was muffled by her lips against his. His reaction was immediate. He scooped her up into his arms, pulling their bodies flush against one another as he continued to soften her lips against his. He had forgotten exactly how it felt to kiss Hermione Granger; how it felt to have her fingers running through his hair, sending pleasant sensations down his scalp and through his body.

After a while they broke apart, and Hermione traced the line of his face with her fingers, tracing around his nose, his brow, the sharp line of his jaw, his lips, while he peered at her, head tilted sideways in that signature way of his. Finally, he leaned down, giving her a soft, affectionate peck that seemed to confirm everything that had just happened.

"I've been waiting for that." He told her honestly.

She smiled, reaching up to mess his hair up at bit more than it already was.

"Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed! Just a fluffy little excerpt from Tom and Hermione's Hogwarts days. Just to be clear, this is before any of the events in the epilogue! I feel like such a sap for writing that, but I think ya'll need to see the highlights of their relationship, and what really made them such a strong couple in my opinion!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Lots of love!**


	22. An Excerpt: Fatherly Instincts

**A/N: Hi guys! How is everyone? Good I hope! All of you enjoying the opening ceremonies of the summer olympics? I know I am!:) So...I realized that today is...da da da dahh! The one-year anniversary of Ashes, Ashes! Yup...my baby is one-year old! Bake a cake and blow out the candles!:) So anyway, I decided that, in honour of my baby's first birthday, I'd do a quick update! Just for the heck of it! Nothing special, just a few more excerpts.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any familiar characters, themes or concepts**

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><p>The baby was crying again.<p>

It wasn't as if a crying baby was an uncommon occurance in the Riddle household. On the contrary, Zeus Riddle had yet to sleep through an entire night without arousing one of his parents from their slumber.

Hermione rolled over, slinging an arm across Tom's waist and snuggling deeper into the warmth of his chest. After a moment, another siren-like wail split through the night air, making her wince. "I'll get him," she sighed finally, tossing the blankets off of her.

"You always get him," Tom argued quietly, pulling her back into bed. "Let me...it's only fair."

"Tom..."

"Shh...let me...please?" He stared intently into her eyes, his fingers massaging the base of her scalp. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into his touch, murming a response of agreement. Pressing his lips to her forehead briefly, Tom rolled out of bed, tiredly trudging towards his son's bedroom. The door creaked noisily as he pushed it open, and he smiled gently at the baby boy, who was rattling the bars of his crib, his face twisted in a pained expression as he continued to cry. Tom watched him uncertainly. After several moments of silence, Zeus' cries subsided to hiccups and he peered at his father with curiosity. After a moment, he stretched his arms towards Tom, opening and closing his tiny fists.

"Dubah!"

Tom cocked his head to the side, fraught with unsureness, before approaching the boy and lifting him into his arms. To his surprise, Zeus neither squirmed nor cried, but nestled into his father's embrace. Not able to help the smile on his face, Tom sunk into the armchair beside the crib. Zeus seemed to be content to just curl up on his chest until he fell asleep, and Tom saw no reason to object to this.

"You're my little Slytherin, aren't you?" he murmured into hte boy's ear. "You're my little champ. _My _son."

Zeus did not say anything, or even look at Tom, but the man just smiled, stroking his son's hair affectionately. After a moment, he realized that the boy was asleep. Tom gently kissed the top the the boy's head before leaning against the back of the chair and drifting off to sleep himself.


	23. An Excerpt: Between the Lines

**A/N: Hi guys! Just another tiny excerpt from Tom and Hermione's life! Warning: This is before the wedding, but after their Hogwarts days. Hermione and Tom aren't married yet, but they've moved in together.**

**WARNING: Bucketfuls of fluff!**

**Disclaimer: HP and all familiar themes belong to J.K.R**

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><p><em>December 20th, 1999<em>

Tom grimaced as he felt the snow _squelch _beneath his boots, the frost biting at his fingers and making his ears turn an embarassing shade of red. He turned back scowl at his girlfriend, who was skipping rather daintily through the forest, her feet hardly even leaving prints on the ground. She brushed passed him, nearly knocking his wand out of his hand.

"Oi, watch it!" He called after her moodily. "Not all of us are as bloody cheerful as you seem to be."

She stopped, frowning at him with her hands on her hips. "Well I don't see why you shouldn't be," she said rather bossily. "This is fun. If you weren't such a stiff wad all the time-"

"I'm _not _a stiffwad," he insisted, sounding irritated. "I just _don't _see why we had to wander all the way out here into the middle of nowhere to pick a Christmas tree when they were on sale for twenty galleons in the Alley!"

"Because that's not _exciting!_" she told him as if it were obvious. "Besides, it's family tradition..." She suddenly rather bashful as she stared down at her feet, her cheeks tinged with red. "And...its our first Christmas together on our own...I just thought it would be...romantic."

Tom frowned, suddenly feeling very regretful for his miserable behavior. He closed the distance between the two of them, lifting her face so her eyes met his own. "As you wish," he told her honestly. "Regardless of the fact that I despise snow with a passion, I shall climb to the top of Mount Everest, through the deepest snows, to get you the most fantastic Christmas tree known to man."

Hermione giggled, looking considerably more cheerful as she glanced around them. "Actually, that one will do quite nicely."

He pressed his lips against her forehead and went to pull away, but she held on tightly to his arms, just keeping him there for a moment as the two of them stood pressed against each other, the snow falling around them.

Finally, Tom went to pick up the ax, swinging it through the air a few times as though he was testing it. "I've never actually used one of these before," he muttered thoughtfully.

"Just remember to use the sharp end!" Hermione called, and he shot her a brief glare before stripping off his jacket-despite the cold weather-and his shirt, leaving him only in his dark trousers and heavy boots. Hermione was silenced rather effectively. Tom gave her a knowing smirk before getting to work, finding a steady rhythm in the swing of his ax. Hermione watched silently, mesmerized by the ripple of the muscles in his back and how his arms would flex each time he drove the blade into the tree trunk. She was actually surprised that he had agreed to this, however reluctantly. Although, as she had pointed out, it _was _the first Christmas on their own together, and Tom wasn't totally un-romanticized.

She sat down on a stump, folding her hands together and peering around the woods in a curious sort of way. It had rained last night, and the salty smell still clung to the bark and leaves, making Hermione inhale deeply. She turned back to Tom, who was making a steady progress on the tree. He hadn't stopped for a break, although a thin sheen of sweat glistened on the surface of his skin. Hermione pondered that for a moment, her eyes settling on the dip of his low back just before his skin met the fabric of his trousers.

"Did you play Rugby?"

Tom froze mid-swing, turning back to look at her quizzically. "Pardon?"

"Rugby," she repeated unaffectedly. "Did you play?"

"No," he said uncertainly, not sure where she was going with such a question.

"Oh," she frowned. "Carry on."

He nodded slowly, and repositioned his hands on the handle of the ax before getting back to work. Hermione stood, moving closer to him, but being sure to stay out of range of the blade. Her frown deepened as his tricep muscle bulged noticeably on the downswing. "Boxing, then?"

He didn't hear her the first time, so she repeated herself. A vein was pulsing near his temple, a signal that she was irritating him, but she wasn't particularly concerned. "Boxing?" He repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes...surely you must have boxed?"

"No."

"Cricket, then?"

He laughed condescendingly. "Hardly."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "Oh! I know...you were a rower, weren't you? You were part of a rowing team!"

"Hermione, what is with all these silly questions? You know I never played any sports as a child."

"I know, I know!" she mumbled, sounding slightly agitated. He set the axe beside the tree, crossing over to her and looking her sternly in the eye.

"What's wrong then?"

Hermione didn't meet his eye. " I was a dancer for nearly _twelve years _and I've _never _had muscles like those." The defeat in her voice was all that kept Tom from bursting into laughter. He gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eye. She looked slightly embarassed and slightly ashamed, but most of all, she looked envious. He bit back another chuckle, and, without warning, lifted her into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist and leaning her against the tree.

"To be perfectly honest, love," he said in a low voice. "I'd be a little bit worried if you did."

She giggled, swatting at him as he nipped her playfully on the ear, but then let out a shriek when she realized her support was giving out. She and Tom both scrambled out of the way as their tree-the tree she had just been leaning against-came rushing down towards the ground, landing with a great _thunk _and sending snow flying every which way.

Hermione stared wide-eyed at Tom, who looked like he was about to burst out laughing. "It isn't funny!" she swatted him. "We could've died!" That was all that did it for him. A great swell of laughter burst from his, and he doubled over, holding his stomach with such uncontrollable mirth that the corner of Hermione's lips turned up just a fraction, and, in a matter of moments, she was laughing right along with him. The snow was melting against their clothes, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Tom finally dragged himself to his feet, pulling her up along with him, and looked at the damage that had been done. "You know, it's still in pretty good condition."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Tom, we can't bring a tree that nearly killed us into our apartment! It's bad luck!"

He rolled his eyes. "Bad luck, Hermione? _Honestly_?"

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, _fine_. But don't blame me when the building burns down." Tom was already tying a rope to the end of the tree, and, when Hermione wasn't looking, cast a lightening charm on it, smirking when she remarked, "Merlin, Tom, you're so strong."

"Genetics, I suppose," he replied in an offhand sort of tone.

They made there way back towards the truck, weaving through the thick woods, Tom carefully maneuvering the tree between the thick trunks. After several moments of walking in silence, Tom realized that Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He stopped, refusing to let that trickle of anxiety run down his spine.

"Mione?"

No answer. Tom let the tree rest on the snow-packed ground, peering around through the thicket. "Hermione!" He called a bit louder. "It's not funny! We're in a rush!"

This was not at all true. Tom had set aside the entire day for Hermione-not that he would ever admit it aloud. "I'm serious, Mi! You've got twelve seconds, before I leave without you! One...two...three..."

_SPLAT!_

Tom winced at something very cold and very wet impacted the back of his head. He whirled around, glaring through the woods. She was very well aware of the fact that he despised all things cold and wet, so to hit him with a snowball of all things-

He jumped when he felt yet another ball of snow hit him, this time smacking him square in the behind. He heard a high-albeit adorable-giggle and turned to see Hermione peeking out from behind one of the thicker trees.

"_Mione," _he growled warningly. "I'm _not _in the mood for playing childish games today."

She just laughed again, flitting from tree to tree, always dancing between his outstretched arms. Finally, Tom gave up, glaring moodily at the spot where Hermione had just been. He gasped when he felt her leap onto his back, tying her arms around his shoulders and winding her legs around his waist.

"Very funny," he grunted. His tone softened, however, when she pressed her cold lips against his jaw, nuzzling her hair against his neck. Sighing, he lifted the cord attached to the tree with one hand, and grasped Hermione's thighs with the other, and started, once more, towards the truck.

After a moment, he said, "You're very lucky I don't dislike you as much as I do the Weasel."

She fingered the tuft of hair on the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Is that you're Slytherin way of telling me you love me?"

He faltered for a moment, just a moment, before tossing her an amused glance. "I...I don't pretend to claim that I wasn't implying something of the sort-"

She leaned around, pressing her lips, this time, to the corner of his mouth, before pulling away a fraction of an inch and whispering, "I love you too."

The rest of their trip was made in silence, but Hermione was contented by the small smile that sat on the corner of Tom's lips. She knew he was happy with her. He may not have been very open about it...

She just had to read between the lines.


	24. An Excerpt: Making Up

**heyy guys! sooooo, I'm just updating another little excerpt of the whole Tom-Hermione shabang! Here's the dealio : i received a complaint from one of my beloved readers that they had waited ten entire chapters for a bit of smut, and they were highly unsatisfied with the lack of smut in Tom and Hermione's first sexual encounter. Sooo...this chapter is going to be me trying my hand at a bit of smut. I must warn you, I've never actuaaally done this before (figuratively and literally;)) so ya'll try not to be too hard on me, yeah? **

**Warning: smut. Don't like, don't read. **

**Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all familiar content!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>September 26th, 1999<em>

Hermione shivered as the cold winter air bit at her skin, causing goose pimples to rise like like an army of inferi on her pale arms. The moon wasn't out, so the street was dark, and her surrounding were cloaked in shadows. Her companion walked silently beside her, his brooding expression discouraging all attempts at conversation-not that she had bothered. She saw his eyes drift over to her ever few seconds, and then snap back, as if he were mentally chastising himself. The thought almost made her laugh, but she stopped the noise from escaping her lips.

Another shiver ran through her, and she saw Tom glance at her again, his eyes flitting to her bare arms with a hint of concern. For a moment, his jaw clenched, and then he tugged off his own jacket and tossed it to her without making eye contact, crossing his arms across his chest. She didn't not thank him, but resentfully pulled her freezing limbs through the too-long sleeves, settling into the warmth and, when Tom was looking in the opposite direction, breathing in his musky scent.

They reached their apartment and Tom shoved the key into the keyhole, throwing the door open and storming inside, not waiting to see if she followed. Hermione closed the door behind her, hanging his coat over the back of a chair and moving to start a fire. She heard Tom bustling about the kitchen, so she went to the bedroom and changed into her pajamas, tossing her hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck.

Tom was still in the kitchen when she came back, so she sank into the sofa and numbly watched the flickering flames, the silence thumping against the walls of her head. She heard the whistle of the pot, and then Tom sank down into the couch beside her, clutching his own cup of tea and setting hers on the table in front of her. She made no move to touch it, but continued to study the fire, the lightly making the contours of her face harsh.

"I really am trying," he muttered after a moment. She could feel his eyes burning in search of hers, but she refused to look at him. "Really, I am. I feel like a little effort should at least be appreciated-"

"-And you think I'm not?" Hermione burst, her head whipping towards him. "You think I haven't been making an effort? What about the fact that I was socially outcast for weeks because I was dating the former Dark Lord, or the fact that my _two best friends _in the whole world wouldn't talk to me for a _month _because they thought I had gone round the bend? Or what about the fact that my boyfriend, whom I love_ very much_ decides to slight my best friend whenever he can, just because of a little grudge-holding!" He started to protest, but she glared him down. "Don't you _dare _tell me that your _effort _should be appreciated, when I have given up _so _much for you! This is _mutual, _Tom! Mutual!"

His eyes were a mixture of irritation and guilt. "So what, you just happen _not _to hear them, when they insult _me, _and slight _me_, but the moment I retaliate, like any human being would, I'm the bad guy! You can't keep holding my past against me Hermione! You keep dangling my mistakes in front of me like its going to _fix _me. I'm going to tell you now, that this is as fixed as it gets, so if this isn't good enough for you, I can leave-"

"_Shut up!" _She roared, jumping to her feet and sending her tea flying. He rose too, towering over her, but if this intimidated her, she didn't show it. She simply stepped towards him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You _have _to learn to control your temper around them! You _know _they're only going to try to get a rise out of you, and the reason that I expect you not to retaliate is because I know you're the better man-"

"Oh, right!" Tom scoffed condescendingly, striding around the couch to get away from her. She followed, her short legs struggling to keep up with him. "The better man who's just made _so _many mistakes, and has just screwed up your entire life-!"

"I didn't _say that!" _

"But you sure as Hell meant it!" his voice covered hers and she let out a shrief of fury, stepping in front of him and shoving him backwards and hard as she could. He hardly budged. "Admit it! That's exactly that what you meant! That you'd be better off if I had never come around, if I'd never interfered with your _perfect _little life-"

"_Shut up!" _She sound of flesh against flesh echoed across the room as the blood rushed to Tom's cheek in the shape of Hermione's handprint against his skin. He grabbed either of her wrists, slamming her against the wall as she struggled against his unbreakable grip. Her heel came down on his toe and he grimaced, pinning her hands above her head against the wall and glaring down at her as she slowly quit struggling, though the fire was still bright in her eyes.

"Admit it," he continued, his voice dangerously low. "You would've been _so _much better off if I hadn't come around and shown you what real trouble was like." His tone was dark, and it made Hermione's stomach lurch with something that she wasn't ready to admit to. "You would've been much happier if I had never come around..." His eyes had left hers and his head had dropped to her neck. "... to show you..." His lips latched on to the skin there, and her back arched against him. "...how good it feels..." His free hand trailed the skin of her stomach. "...to let..." her eyes lifted to meet his, and she realized with a jolt that they had darkened to an inky black. "...go."

Their lips met and he lifted her hips, grasping her ass as her legs latched around his torso. He groaned throatily as she ground herself against him, taking no care to be gentle. He hastily ripped her shirt off and his lips moved to her breast, teasing and tugging and grinning as Hermione made the sharpest gasp he had ever heard. Her hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, and he smirked against her lips, neglecting to aid her in her struggle. Finally, when she got the last button undone, she shoved the shirt off his shoulders and it felt to the floor. His chuckle vibrated between the two of them as her hands ran greedily up his tone chest and over the muscles of his stomach. His skin felt on fire where it met her fingers, and he pressed himself flush against her, looping his arms around her back and carrying her towards the bedroom. With a grunt, he tossed her none to gently onto the bed and crawled over her, looking down at her with a predatorial gaze. She glared up at him, grasping his shoulders and tugging him down to kiss her.

Tom lowered himself, her breasts rubbing against his chest. His mouth left a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses from her chest down to her bellybutton, where he nuzzled her stomach, chuckling as Hermione squirmed, his hair tickling her. He lowered himself further, stopping at her lacy underwear. With a smirk, he realized they were his favorites; Slytherin green. "Someone knew we'd be making up, tonight."

"Who says we're made up?" She challenged glaringly. With a raised eyebrow, he took the hem of her panties between his teeth and, without breaking eye contact, pulled them down her legs, tossing them somewhere across the room. Hermione's chest rose and fell with every breath, but she refused to break eye-contact with him, her eyes still narrowed in an expression between hatred and lust.

"Are we made up yet?" he asked innocently, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Not even close."

He brushed his lips against her womanhood, and she let out a sharp breath, reaching down and grasping his hair tightly with her hand. "Tom..." she warned, but he just chuckled, his lips vibrating against her, making her back arch and her lips part wantonly. Hermione's nails dug into his scalp as his tongue poked out his mouth, tasting her. He continued his ministrations, bringing her to the brink and then withdrawing his face from between her legs and moving back up to kiss her. She moaned in frustrations, biting down hard on his lip, her hips seeking his own. This seemed to turn him on more, as he pressed her deep into the mattress, ripping off his trousers and boxers in a matter of seconds and grinding himself against her, grunting and muttering in such an eager way that Hermione was almost undone at the sight of him. Her anger ebbed away at the edges and she reaches in between them, grasping his length and guiding him into her.

Tom let out a moan of satisfaction as he sunk deep into her, grasping her hips and bringing her, if possible, closer to him. He started to move, and Hermione wrapped herself around him, her hands finding his silky hair and her lips finding his. His grip loosened and the kisses became softer, more sensual. Her mouth left a hot trail along his jaw as she breathed against him, clinging to his shoulders as he thrust in and out of her warmth. His lips found her earlobe, and he toyed with it a moment before whispering-panting-" I love you, Hermione."

She mewled, clawing at his chest as she came closer to her peak. Tom's movement escalated, climbing higher and higher as he thrust more and more erratically. Tom let out a grunt as he came, his form collapsing against her, and Hermione followed soon after.

They laid like that for a few moments before he pulled out of her, rolling off of her and pulling her into his embrace. Their naked bodies fit together like a puzzle, and his hand found the curve of her cheek. "I love you," he repeated. "Really. And...I am sorry. I'll try harder, I promise."

"And I'm sorry," Hermione said guiltily, studying the curve of his bicep. "I...I shouldn't be so stubborn."

He pressed his lips to the junction between her jaw and neck, and then let out a short laugh. "Just do me a favour...next time we argue, don't distract me with your seduction techniques, yeah?"

"_My _seduction techniques?" Hermione protested. "You're the one who slammed me up against the wall! You _know _I have that thing with walls..."

"Oh, do you?" Tom's mischievous smile told all. "Must've forgotten."

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><p><strong>alright guys, there you are! hope it wasn't too terrible! 0.0 try not to be too harsh, I've never done this before! no flames:)<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**lots of love, ~mrs. hiddleston**


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